


Antinomy

by Doxa1



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/M, Infidelity, Love, Possessive Behavior
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:13:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 63,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26496184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doxa1/pseuds/Doxa1
Summary: This story explores the seductive nature of transgression as both Jon and Daenerys find themselves intertangled with each other and he is unfaithful to his wife with her.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 619
Kudos: 304





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First and foremost, I do not support infidelity. That said, this story has been on my mind for a very long time. It's kind of a little project for me away from the main world of ASOIAF. 
> 
> The intent of this story is not to romanticize cheating or toxicity, but to explore the technicalities of what it is that makes people fall short in that regard. 
> 
> I understand that this story isn't for everyone, but if you do read this, then please bear in mind that I want to take a few chapters to establish a relationship between Jon and Daenerys.

**PRESENT DAY**

Jon replayed the video again. It was the only thing of her he hadn't gotten rid off after she'd disappeared. He couldn't get himself to. That morning, they'd been lying in bed together and the look on her face when she'd stared at him... It was a look reserved for him alone and it was a moment in time he had to capture. When she'd wrestled to get the phone out of his hand, he'd lied and told her he deleted it.

Four years. Four since Daenerys had left without a trace, he finally saw her again. In the highest display resolution on their bedroom TV. As soon as he'd gotten home, Missandei had ran down the stairs to drag him up to their bedroom, pointing frantically at the the TV. Jon couldn't believe it. She was the guest on podcast somewhere in Tyrosh. He didn't know how to react in any way that wouldn't set off suspicion, so he'd opted for muted happiness. His surprise had definitely not been in pretence.

He'd listened and added his voice whenever necessary whilst Missandei talked all through after that. Forgetting how deeply she'd been hurt when Dany cut all communication between them, Missandei spent the rest of the day scavenging through all social platforms for any way to get in contact with her best friend. Jon had toned his true feelings down until Missandei had fallen asleep. Then he'd driven to his office and for the first time in four years, opened the safe he'd locked after she'd left him. In it was the phone with which he'd recorded the video that was now playing on a loop. It brought back everything he'd worked so hard to bury. All that love and the pain that came with it. The unhealthy addiction to each other and destructive behaviours that had come from something which started so innocently.

**THIRTEEN YEARS AGO**

"Unca Jon!"

Jon swiveled at the sound of his name being called by a very excited three year old.

"Hi, Unca Jon!"

"Hey!" he picked up Little Sam and threw the laughing boy in the air. "You're late," he told Sam when he settled his nephew well on his arm.

"It's... five in the morning and it took us an hour to get here," Sam said incredulously, unfolding the lapel of his rumpled blazer. "Hey, Missandei," he said, giving her a brief side-hug as she tickled Little Sam in the neck.

"Did he keep you up late again with his _research_? You're not a doctor in any of the medical sciences, Sam." Jon bent to peck a blushing Gilly on the cheek, ignoring Sam's muttered ' _Prick'_. "You should be resting," Jon said, eyeing Gilly's swollen belly.

"I couldn't very well leave her--"

"I wanted to be here." Gilly patted Jon's hand fondly. "I haven't seen Dany since before Little Sam was born," she added. "When does her flight arrive, Sam?" she asked.

"In an hour," Missandei replied. His fiancée's eyes were shining with excitement. She was already walking away from their group and heading into the main terminal.

With a double-tap on the app that served as a remote to his Privately Owned Vehicle, Jon locked it: waiting until the tail lights blinked before walking to meet up with the rest of them.

As soon as he stepped into the terminal, his eyes scanned around for any signs of danger. It was second nature to him. The tiles under foot gleamed white and everywhere, people were milling around. There was a sculpture of a golden lion with water cascading from it's mouth and flowing into the mouth of its golden cub. In the background, the soft music rooted in the traditions of the Westerlands played.

"Over here!" Missandei waved him over. It was just the right spot with enough sitting space and a large enough cushion for Gilly to lay down if she wanted.

Jon set Little Sam down and decided to take a look around the newly built airport. Today would be his first time meeting Daenerys. He'd heard a lot about her, seen pictures of her, he'd even spoke with her a time or two, but he'd never met her. In the words of Missandei, fate had put it off long enough. Missy was eager for both of them to get along:

_"Daenerys is not just a friend to me. She's my sister," she started and then hesitated. "I'll be honest with you, there are two categories of people who have meet her: those who end up loving her and those who hate her guts. I hope you like her, at least," she told him._

Jon had laughed when Missandei started preparing him to meet with her friend because he thought she was messing around, but when she didn't laugh with him, he went from being curious to being cautious. He got on famously with her other best friend, Sam, who also happened to be his best friend. It was a funny story, how they had all got involved with each other. Five years ago, Jon had met Sam when he'd been deployed to the Wall. One of the world's greatest marvels, the Wall stood as a barrier between Westeros and lands beyond. At the time, he'd just been commissioned from the Crownlands Military Academy and was anxious to start his duties as a Second Lieutenant. Sam had been offered a job in one of the bases that had been built on the Wall. Castle Black. Fresh from Essos with something to prove, Sam had gone to the Wall with completely different expectations than what he'd been met with. The first time Jon had seen him, it had been in the mess hall, on the queue to the buffet where Sam had been complaining bitterly to himself about the frozen hellscape his recruiter had seriously downplayed. After that, he'd seen Sam sparingly, but Sam's reputation soon preceded him, especially when news got around of whose son he he was. Secretly, he became the object of ridicule. One day, when Jon had just come from a morning drill, he noticed how miserable Sam looked and walked up to him:

_II you hate it so much here, why did you take the job? You're a civilian. You can leave at any time."_

_Sam looked surprised and flustered, but immediately became defensive. "I have a critical support role here. And with regards to academics, I'm the most qualified person to work with the Lord Commander--"_

_"Lord Commander?" Jon chuckled. "No one has called the Brigadier that for centuries."_

_"Well...," Sam shrugged. "You're Jon Snow. You're envied almost as much as I am here."_

_"You think they envy you?"_

_"I'm 19 and the most accomplished here with two masters degrees and a PhD from the Citadel--the highest ranking academic institution in the world, mind you," he bragged subtly. "You're also 19 and there's already rumours of how quickly you'll climb through the ranks. Both our fathers are powerful men--"_

_"I didn't get here because of my father," Jon cut him off forthrightly. He hadn't changed his family name for 'Snow' because he liked the sound of it. He didn't want people to know whose son he was because of how differently they treated him when they got to find out._

_"Neither did I. I came here to spite him," Sam stated with his eyes glinting angrily. "And--" Jon immediately stood straight with his feet together to show respect to a more senior ranking officer who had just passed him. Sam rolled his eyes discreetly. "And to prove something to him and myself," he finished when Jon stood at ease._

_"You came to the wrong place to do that," Jon noted, walking away from the entrance with Sam following quickly. He appraised Sam. "You're fat and unfit," he said matter-of-factly._

_"I didn't come here to be a fucking soldier," Sam snapped, "and you're very judgemental for one who might not pass the height restrictions at an amusement park."_

Jon's laughter had rung through the hallway until he'd had a coughing fit. They'd been friends ever since. Missandei had come a few months later on Dr. Aemon's recommendations, which had really just been Sam's recommendations. In that time, the Free Folk had stopped their tribal wars and allied with the Westerosi special forces to stand against a terrorist organisation called The Others. No one knew anything about them except that a mark of their initiation was the icy blue ink injected into the eyes of their members. It was eerie as fuck. After they'd captured one of the lower ranking members in their army, they couldn't get anything out of him. And when they'd pried it out of him, no one could understand him. They'd needed a linguist and translator and the next week, Missandei had arrived.

_"She can speak nineteen languages and counting."_

_"Fuck off," Jon said in disbelief._

_"If you think I'm smart, then her intelligence blow you away," Sam said, nodding confidently._

Missandei hadn't been what he'd expected. Stunning, shy, but with a sort of gentle firmness about her. With more degrees and accolades than he could count on both hands by the age of 18, it wasn't a surprise that she was as professional as she was. As frightened as she was of their prisoner and as queasy his tortured state made her feel, it didn't stop her from working with him day and night. Jon admired that about her. They had been more acquaintances than friends in those early days, but after two years of getting to know each other, she was comfortable enough around him to let some of her guard down. In that time, he'd gotten to know more details about their childhood. Missandei, Sam and the third member of their trio, Daenerys, had grown up together in Essos. Missandei and Daenerys, or 'Dany' as they called her, had known each other much longer. They adopted Sam as a part of their group when they'd stood up to some people who habitually sought to intimidate him because they perceived him as vulnerable. Sam's father was a senior ranking officer in the Westerosi Armed Forces who had been stationed in Meereen during Sam's early teen years and had left Sam there with a relative when he'd been transferred to a base in the Summer Isles. As the new student in school who didn't fit in, he'd had a tough time of it. Missandei recounted that Daenerys, who happened to be the smallest yet boldest of the three of them, had given the bullies hell and no one could fuck with her because she had some guy named Drogo, and his horde called _the Bloodriders,_ wrapped around her finger.

The three of them - Missandei, Sam, and Daenerys - started hanging out because they were all gifted in some way or the other. Whenever Daenerys came up as a topic, Missandei spoke of her like she thought her friend handed out stars as souvenirs. In Sam's case, he sounded like he found her overbearing albeit fondly. Something told him that if Missandei hadn't been the common factor between them, Sam and Daenerys wouldn't have been as close.

In the second year of the friendship between Jon and Sam, there'd been a war north of the Wall. A genocide the of the Free Folk which had finally gotten the Premier of the Seven Kingdoms, Tywin Lannister, to take the plight of the Free Folk seriously. That was when Sam had met Gilly who'd been pregnant with Little Sam. A year later, the four of them had become a kind of family and when his deployment phase was near its end, Sam had cried. Jon ribbed the fuck out of him and jokingly told him to find employment in King's Landing where Jon would return to his home installation, and prepare to reintegrate into normal life. Sam had taken his words to heart. A few months later, Sam relocated to King's Landing with Gilly and Little Sam in tow. Missandei preferred to remain at the Wall, but after much persuasion, she'd joined them. All their lives had become so intertwined, but Missandei always claimed that their circle still felt incomplete. In that time, he'd begun to fall for her. She ignored all his advances until a year later. They dated for five months and he proposed to her last month. With their wedding date set for tomorrow, he was going to meet the last member of the original group at last.

In 0600 hours, the flight which carried their guest landed.

"She's here!" Missandei exclaimed, rushing to his side. "Jon! Come with me!" she said, dragging him away from where he'd been.

"She's not even off the plane yet," he said, allowing himself to be tugged along.

The others, Sam and his family, were already on the move towards the gate from where the passengers would soon file out. In roughly, fifteen minutes, a sea of faces thronged out of the large gate, many of them carrying suitcases or rolling along their luggage. Missandei stood on her toes, searching the mass of people, but it was Jon who saw their guest before the others. Her back was turned to them, but he just knew it was Daenerys Stormborn he was looking at.

"That's her, is it not?" he tapped Missandei and pointed at the petite lady who just turned around to to face their direction.

"Dany!!!" Missandei squealed and took off in her direction. The cool and distant look Daenerys had just been wearing melted into one of genuine pleasure.

It went without saying that Daenerys was very beautiful, but that wasn't what made her striking to Jon. There was something about the woman that just commanded attention. He noted the stares directed their way as he walked up to the group of friends who had known each other for the better parts of their lifetimes.

"Gilly," he heard her say when she disentangled herself from Missandei's grip. "You look really well," she said giving Gilly a long embrace. "Is this Little Sam?" she asked, trying to get a better look at the toddler who was sound asleep against his mother's shoulder.

"You're not going to keep ignoring me, are you?" Sam asked.

Daenerys finally looked at Sam and said, "If only," then she smiled.

"Three years, Stormborn," Sam said, pulling her into a bear hug.

"Just three? At least you saw her when you visited Meereen. I haven't seen you in five years, Dany," Missandei said, hitting her friend's arm with the back of her hand. "Hey, hey," Missandei said, snapping her fingers in Sam's face and pulling Daenerys away from him, "Dany, this is Jon."

She raised her eyebrows ever so slightly as if she hadn't cast sparing glances his way when she was greeting her friends. "Daenerys," she said, extending her hand.

"Jon." He accepted her handshake.

On their way home that night after a day full of activities, Missandei's asked, "What do you think of her?"

Jon didn't respond immediately. After picking her up, the rest of the day went away from him in the blink of an eye. From dropping off Missandei and Daenerys at her hotel, he'd driven to the military base to train the men in his command and facilitate other operations he could help with. He hadn't had time to really be around Missandei and had only gone to pick her up after leaving her to a long day of catching up with her friend and seeing to the minutiae of their wedding.

"Well?" she turned on her seat to look at him when he stopped in front of a traffic light.

Jon kept her in suspense, letting her stew in her anxiousness, and chuckled when Missandei caught on to what he was doing.

"Jon!" she punched his shoulder and he chuckled. "Do you like her? I need you two to get along. You're the most important people in my life."

"I'm sure we will eventually," he told her and drove when the light turned green. "Great fashion sense," he said, still in the mood to tease Missandei. "Smaller than I expected." Missandei smiled. "She seems... alright."

Missy sighed. "Give her time. She takes some getting used to."

It wasn't as big a deal as Missandei was making it out to be. It was only natural that strangers didn't become overly familiar overnight. They both maintained respectable cordiality around each other both times that they'd met and that was enough for him. Jon didn't want to talk about Daenerys. He just wanted to spend tonight with the woman that would soon be his wife. There were several intervals during the day when all he could think of was Missandei. He couldn't wait to officially call her his wife. After he made a right turn to their street, he reached for her hand and kissed her fingers.

"I love you," he said.

She curled her fingers around his and smiled sweetly at him. _Tomorrow,_ he thought. _I can't wait for tomorrow._

* * *

The wedding, blissful and exhausting, had come and gone. Now, they were breaking their fast at his place with Sam, Gilly, and Daenerys. Both he and Missandei had decided against a honeymoon.

"Isn't that nepotism of some sort?" Daenerys asked, spreading jam on a piece of toast.

"Nepotism?" Sam asked. "Nepotism is Tywin Lannister employing his entire family and all of the Westerlands into positions of power. I mean, Cersei Lannister on the Small Council? She's a hag who lives on the sway of her faded beauty and her father's wealth and influence. You built an AI that makes predictions of the future which blew up in the upper echelons of the banking industry in Braavos. Enough to make you retire early."

"You pretty much created something that has visions about future events," Missandei interjected, adding weight to Sam's argument.

"And now you're unemployed," Sam added blithely, making the others at the table laugh. "Missandei's opinion is merely that Jon recommend you as a consultant to his superiors. Gods know the military could use your expertise with how much tensions there are between the kingdoms. The North, especially," Sam said, looking pointedly at Jon.

Jon ignored the look Sam sent his way and flipped him off even though Sam was right about the last part. The state of things in the North was partly why his family hadn't been able to attend his wedding. There had always been a bitter divide between the Capital and the North for as long as he could remember. Tywin Lannister granted the North autonomy after a particularly tumultuous era in the realm's history. Just around the time Jon had been born. Jon didn't know all the details of what happened, but he knew some of the truth had been distorted in the history archives and he knew that it had altered the course of his father's life. It definitely fucked up his first marriage. Jon was the product of an affair between his father and an unknown woman and being who he was, Eddard had brought his son home after his lover had passed. Something, Catelyn never forgave him for. After Rickon was born, their marriage hit the rocks and they had a very public divorce. She went back to the Riverlands after getting custody of their children who, until they turned sixteen, could only visit Eddard during extended periods of festivities or any brief sojourns that she permitted. Some time later, his father had found love with Ashara Dayne. The three of them had truly become a family. Ashara and Jon grew so close that rumours began to spread that she was his real mother. He himself had wanted to believe that. Ashara was the only mother he ever knew. It was why it still mindfucked him when he thought of her suicide. She'd been the best part of growing up in Winterfell. He'd been a lonely child, never quite fitting in with the rest of his siblings, but Ashara's presence in his life had filled it in a way that only she could and when she'd left them, things weren't the same any more. Even after Ned and Catelyn rekindled what had come before, his father just wasn't the same man. Jon himself had left Winterfell as soon as he turned fifteen and moved in with his uncle, Benjen, under the guise of following Benjen's footsteps and going down the military path at an early age. It had just an excuse: he hadn't meant it. But since Benjen was the biggest influence in his life at the time, his excuse became a real interest and the next year, he was admitted into a military academy.

Somehow, it had all led him to his wife. Her happiness mattered to him and right now, she wanted Daenerys close. Daenerys wasn't from Westeros. She was Essosi and judging from her Valyrian features, Lyseni or Volantene. That might pose a hitch considering the sensitive position needed to be filled...on the other hand, her skillset would be an asset to anyone and better the Westerosi intelligence than an enemy.

"Do you want to consult for the military?" If he was going to put in a word for her, it was going to be hinged on his reputation and he didn't fuck around with that. No amount of skill could make up for the willingness to put in work.

"I'll think about it," was all she said on that, changing the topic when her friends began to hound her.

|   
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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you made it to the end, thanks for reading. I haven't written modern AU before and prior to season 8, I wasn't keen on it, but here I am. Even at that, I still wanted it to feel like the ASOIAF world and I hope it was able to translate to the readers across the text.
> 
> Chapter 2 will be up next week.
> 
> Ps: For those who might be following 'So What Now?', I'm still on that story.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New Chapter. Let me know what you think.

**JON**  
  
  
  
It had been the equivalent of pulling teeth to get the higher-ups to consider Daenerys and after that, a thorough background check on who she was. All seemed in order because five weeks after the whole idea sprung up, she received an offer.  
  
  
  
Daenerys' services didn't come cheap and he could see why. She was as thorough and detailed an analyst as anyone could be. He had also begun to understand what Missandei meant when she said people either loved or hated Daenerys. Daenerys Stormborn was a force of nature who had gained notoriety on the base. Those who met her or worked with her almost always walked away holding strong opinions of her which fell on either extreme of the polarizing scale.  
  
  
  
As for him, he'd kept his distance because it just so happened that they hadn't gotten past the "friend of a friend" phase and after four months of that, he didn't see them going beyond it anytime soon which was why he was hesitant to join her when he saw her eating by herself in the food court.  
  
  
  
He could already hear Missandei's voice in his head pushing him in her direction. Jon sighed and walked towards her table with a tray in one hand.  
  
  
  
The air was cool and pleasantly light with the aromas of different foods. The walls of the food court were so elegantly curved and the architecture was wrapped around steel beams to create this inner space. There were only a handful of people around this time of day so as he walked, his footsteps echoed and the sound made her lift her head. As he drew closer, he saw her push a button which turned off the holographic display on the table.  
  
  
  
"Daenerys," he nodded, taking a seat opposite her.  
  
  
  
"Captain Snow," she acknowledged and turned the display back on. When they were within the base, she only ever addressed him by his title.  
  
  
  
They remained in silence, with Jon eating and Daenerys reading what looked like the day's paper. She made a sound which could have been mistaken for laughter, but there were little telltale signs on her face that indicated her anger.  
  
  
  
"What are you reading?" he asked casually, sipping his hot beverage and allowing himself a moment to enjoy the faint hint of its sour aftertaste.  
  
  
  
"More of Aerys Targaryen's wealth has been found and is being returned to the powers that be."  
  
  
  
"A lot of it was ill gotten wealth."  
  
  
  
"Was it?" she asked. "Or was it just an excuse to wipe out his family so that they could get their hands on another thing that the Targaryens had created?"  
  
  
  
Jon paused and sat back to study Daenerys.  
  
  
  
"I'm paid to think like the enemy," she said coolly, aware that she was under his scrutiny.  
  
  
  
He was of the impression that most people, regardless of where they hailed from, would be against Aerys. Aerys Targaryen had been a very powerful man at the helm of an organization which had walked a very thin line between a cult and a conglomerate. House Targaryen. Aerys had led the most bloodthirsty campaign ever recorded against the Seven Kingdoms. He'd held absolutely no regard for human life and had made sure to show it at any chance he got.  
  
  
  
"Fuck him. He wasn't a good person," Jon said. "And no one can really say what happened to his family."  
  
  
  
"Mm."  
  
  
  
Jon knew they were all dead. He'd read the classified files his father had kept hidden under lock and key. Most of it had been redacted.  
  
  
  
Aerys' ancestors had founded Westeros years ago, no one really knew how far back in time - some records claimed it was centuries ago and others millennia - but the dynasty had come to its end centuries ago when a bloodbath had been ensued due to the infighting between the royal family at the time. A period dubbed _the Dance of Dragons_. It had nearly torn the country in half and after that, the most powerful houses on the continent came together to form a ruling body which selected a house to stand in as the head of the realm until the patriarch or matriarch of that house died, then it was passed onto the next house until the rotation was complete and then it began anew so that every house had a turn and no one felt slighted. It was the crude framework of the system of governance that lay in place today.  
  
  
  
The Targaryens had been cast out of power, but in compensation, had been allowed stay on Dragonstone as homage to the first Targaryens who had unified all the kingdoms under one rule. Their loyalists, the Velaryons and Celtigars had followed them. However, there had always been resentment from the ones who styled themselves dragons, and from the time they'd been pushed out, they began to rebuild. The aim was to become a power with such great might that it rivaled anything the Seven Kingdoms could come up with. It hadn't happened immediately, but some hundred years later, they had emerged as an enclave that was strong enough to be its own sovereign state. They'd lived, mostly peaceably, side by side with the Seven Kingdoms and had built strong alliances until another dispute had happened amongst themselves. Some felt that they could bring the Seven Kingdoms to heel and others just wanted to maintain the peace. War ensued and the faction that wanted to rule, House Blackfyre, broke out and was exiled to Essos. For another century, peace reigned between the Seven Kingdoms and Dragonstone, and the Targaryens profited heavily as the primary trade partners of the Seven Kingdoms. At some point, the cumulative wealth of the Seven Kingdoms barely surpassed that of the Targaryens. A century later, the radical ideology of the Blackfyres somehow found its way back on the island and it made fanatics of the people who lived there and even spread to the Seven Kingdoms. Aerys had been born during the height of that fanaticism and had been raised in it. He grew up hating the Seven Kingdoms.  
  
  
  
Rumour had it that power went directly from his grandfather to Aerys after the old man passed because he burned his father alive. A trait of which he would later gain great renown. He became the biggest threat to Seven Kingdoms, especially because he had a devout following in the Capital. The ruling body had been in shambles, but Tywin had stepped up with the backing of four other powerful men, one of whom was Eddard Stark. One of the top men in Aerys' inner circle sold him out and they uncovered a whole nest of advanced weaponry which would have levelled the entire King's Landing if they hadn't acted quickly. That was as much as he could confirm were the truths of what happened back then. For everything that came after, the details had grown indistinct. The only ones who knew the encompassing truth, from the beginning to the end, were either dead, in power, or had vanished.  
  
  
  
"Maybe it's for the best that they can't be found. I hear his son wasn't different from him," Jon said carefully, reading her body language.  
  
  
  
"Maybe," she said amiably. "But it would be a shame to judge a son for the sins of his father, wouldn't it?"  
  
  
  
The only reason Jon tempered his guard was because the intelligence unit had done their due on Daenerys. He'd always passed off her features as a trademark of Lys or Volantis which, though rare, were not uncommon to certain regions in those areas. But the Targaryens and their offshoot, the Blackfyres, were also of Valyrian descent.  
  
  
  
"Why do you care?" he asked.  
  
  
  
She slid the holographic projection across the table to him. "It's one of the things I'm training your unit on next. Lieutenant General Whent asked me to look into it."  
  
  
  
That made sense, but his skin still prickled. Before things had gone really bad north of the Wall, Jon had been one of those singled out to join a special operations unit called _'_ the Rangers.' When shit hit the fan, they had been sent into thick of the battle against The Others. Those days behind enemy lines had honed his instincts to the point where he'd had to go to therapy sessions to curb the feeling of suspicion he felt everywhere around him after that period. The first people on whom he'd put to practice what the therapist had said were his closest friends. He'd extended that grace to Daenerys by default. In this moment, however, he had to recall what he'd been taught in those sessions.  
  
  
  
A little while later, she packed up her things and left him to his meal.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
"Snow!" the door to his office burst open and in barged Locke. Locke was a former member of his unit who had retired from active duty and had taken a job at the military headquarters in the Crownlands after suffering some damage to his leg which made him a liability on the field.  
  
  
  
"For fuck's sake," Jon muttered.  
  
  
  
"This...," he said, looking around Jon's office, "...is a shit hole."  
  
  
  
It was a standard military office. A plain desk filled with memorabilia, plain chairs that matched the table, insignia of the platoons and units he'd served in, with large pictures of Tywin Lannister and the highest ranking military officers in the realm decorated the walls, flanked by the banners and coat of arms of the Seven Kingdoms.  
  
  
  
"You've gone soft," Jon said, eyeing his fellow northman who took a seat across from him. "Why are you here?" he asked, getting straight to it. The other man rarely left the Crownlands if ever.  
  
  
  
"That is above your pay grade," Locke answered, stroking his goatee.  
  
  
  
"You're getting old?" Jon observed, making reference to the grey hair streaked through Locke's beard and hair.  
  
  
  
The deep lines on Locke's forehead got even deeper when he laughed. "No shit. The women in the Crownlands love this look. It's dignified."  
  
  
  
The older man looked anything but. His features were rugged and as friendly as he seemed, Jon knew that he wouldn't hesitate to sell his own mother if it meant serving his own means. In some fucked up way, his own means was an added advantage to the Seven Kingdoms because Locke was an ethnocentrist whose allegiance to the realm ran deep. That dedication and the shared sense of purpose they had was what made Locke one of the few people Jon could absolutely trust with his life in battle. It didn't matter that Jon didn't like him on a personal level. Outside of work, their values were far apart. Even on missions, there were times that Jon had witnessed his sadism against the enemy. It made no difference if they were women or children. It had to be a thing with people who hailed from around the Dreadfort. The Boltons of old, legend claimed, were cruel as fuck.  
  
  
  
"I need a ride to the airport," Locke said, his cunning eyes, Jon knew, had already registered everything that was in this office.  
  
  
  
"I'm busy."  
  
  
  
"I'll wait."  
  
  
  
Jon knew there was no shaking the man off so he went on looking through the logistics of what he wanted his men to accomplish for the day. He pushed away from his desk to call in the five Lieutenants who were his direct subordinates. Leading them to the noticeboard that hung on the wall, he began to point out what be wanted. Giving orders, and allowing room for questions where necessary. When all was done, he walked back to his desk to find Locke leaning back against the chair with his feet on Jon's table.  
  
  
  
"Are you done?"  
  
  
  
"Get your feet off my table. I have a meeting now and then overwatch." Jon typed coordinates on his phone and sent them to Locke. "Meet me there in four hours."  
  
  
  
Four hours later, Jon met Locke in the smallest parking lot of the base, where he'd told the other man he'd be. A heavy armoured truck drove by and those within saluted him to whom he responded.  
  
  
  
After they both got into Jon's vehicle, he began his drive. Locke figdeted with the large screen above the centre compartment of his vehicle until the he was satisfied with the music playing. Jon kept his eyes on the road, but turned his head at the sound of Locke's long and low whistle.  
  
  
  
It was Daenerys. She was by a building speaking with General Drumm, surrounded by four soldiers who stood still like stone columns, looking undeviatingly ahead. Somehow, even beside the powerfully built general, Daenerys looked the more imposing figure.  
  
  
  
"Fuck me," Locke said, stretching his neck and twisting his head around until she was out of sight. "Seven hells!" he said, shaking his head and running a hand through his thick hair. "Damn. I heard she was beautiful, but what the fuck?" He looked back again and then hit the dashboard with the back of his fingers. "How is Piggy close friends with so many beautiful women from Meereen?"  
  
  
  
Jon cast an unreadable look his way at the nickname for Sam and Locke threw his hands up. "Come on. The guy is--"  
  
  
  
"Two friends."  
  
  
  
"That's two too many," Locke said and laughed at his own joke. He adjusted the air conditioning and sat back again. "Did you read the files I sent you?"  
  
  
  
Jon nodded, gazing straight ahead as he tapped his thumbs on the leather-wrapped steering wheel, vaguely aware of the world outside the comfort of the vehicle, the almost soundless changing of the gears, and the pattern of traffic lights.  
  
  
  
"You never told me what that was about."  
  
  
  
"That is above your pay grade."  
  
  
  
Locke flipped him off and Jon chuckled.  
  
  
  
After his lunch with Daenerys the other day, he'd asked Locke to do deeper a background check on her. Locke worked with a man named Qyburn who had connections and access to resources and information that Intelligence might not have had readily available. And Locke was discreet enough to fish for the information without setting off red flags.  
  
  
  
Jon didn't know if he could say he was surprised she was who she said she was, but what did surprise him was everything else. The things Missandei and Sam had shared with him about her barely scratched the surface that he wondered if they actually knew just how influential their friend was throughout Essos. With the success of her AI, she'd made powerful friends in Braavos. Braavos, more or less, had the largest banking industry in the world. This had a huge impact on their economy and in many regards, because of this, they held sway over the financial climate of Essos. Which was how Daenerys had singlehandedly fought the government of the Commonwealth of the three city-states--Meereen, Astapor, and Yunkai--on behalf of the ill-treatment of the destitute foreign workers in that region. Locke had uncovered that she was also the silent chair of an organization which helped rehabilitate reformed criminals and took care of the financial needs of their families and their victims. Two years ago, when she turned 21, she'd left Meereen due to rising tensions which had put her life at risk, and moved to Qarth where she'd stayed for a year before returning back to Meereen. Jon was sure neither Missandei nor Sam knew about that, else they would have badgered her to move to Westeros ages ago and after seven months of knowing her, it was easy to see how protective she was of her friends, so of course she didn't tell them shit about that. Because she didn't want them worrying about her.   
  
  
  
Working directly with her as she trained his unit had helped ease things between them. They were somewhere between acquaintanceship and actual friendship now.  
  
  
  
"Take the next turn," Locke told him, pointing at where he wanted Jon to go.  
  
  
  
"What?"  
  
  
  
"The next turn. Take it. I'm not going to the airport."  
  
  
  
"Then why did you waste my time?" Jon asked, annoyed.  
  
  
  
"What? I can't drop in to see an old friend?" he asked testily and then sighed. "I miss it, man," he said, shaking his head and lowering the temperature of the air conditioner as he reminisced on their days beyond the Wall. "The marches and the nights hiding in the forests. Even the cold. That feeling of not knowing if the next breathe will be your last...there's nothing quite like it. Trust me, I've tried everything."  
  
  
  
Jon understood. He'd been deployed once more since he left the Wall and as dangerous as those times had been, nothing gave him a greater sense of purpose. He didn't say anything, but drove where Locke directed him and parked on a field behind an unimpressive car with tinted windows.  
  
  
  
When Locke got out, he knocked on the passenger window and Jon lowered it, then he leaned his arms lightly on the lowered glass. "Should we be worried about Daenerys?" he asked, the wistful look in his eyes had been replaced by a hard and calculative glint.  
  
  
  
"You know how Stannis is," Jon lied. "He's doing everything he can to get her out. Any incriminating piece of information would do." That part wasn't necessarily untrue. Stannis couldn't stand the idea that Daenerys might be seen as some sort of leader by the soldiers despite having no experience whatsoever in warfare.  
  
  
  
Locke's shoulders shook as he laughed and nodded. "Word is that the folk over here either want to fuck her, kill her, or do both. Hey, do you think you could put in a good word for me with her? You and I could be friends-in-law." Jon pressed the ignition key and started backing out of the field. "Hey!" Locke jumped back when Jon wouldn't slow down. "Motherfu--...hey, fuck you, Snow!" Locke shouted after him.  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hope you liked this. The new chapter came faster than I thought it would. Next one will be up next weekend.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Establishing friendship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy this. Let me know if you do.

  
  
**DAENERYS**   
  
  
  
"You think because you wear that insignia on your shoulder you can just do whatever you want, soldier?" the Major barked, getting very close to Jon's face.  
  
  
  
Daenerys slowed down her steps and stopped by a large oak tree, unable to avoid the sight before her. It was really close to where she'd parked her car.  
  
  
  
"No, ser," Jon said, standing at attention and looking forward as the Major berated him.  
  
  
  
It was common knowledge that the man hated Jon. Daenerys didn't know why, but whenever she happened upon them within the same vicinity of each other, Major Alliser Thorne was either glaring at Jon or trying to humiliate him. Jon took it all in stride and if she wasn't mistaken, although he didn't show it, there was an air of arrogance about Jon whenever anything of the like happened. Jon was special forces and as such, had more leeway than the average soldier. Major Thorne, a rank above Jon, was a typical soldier and it seemed to embitter him that Jon had not only been promoted quicker than was usual throughout his career, but also that it wouldn't be long until they were of equal rank. As it was, Jon was essentially a Major. He didn't bear the title yet, but he shouldered the same amount of responsibilities a Major did. The only reason there was any delay in his promotion being official, according to what she'd been told, was that there was some internal politics involved.  
  
  
  
"Do you know why these regulations have been put in place, Snow or should I call you _Stark_?" Word was getting around whose son Jon was and it just served as one more thing that Major Thorne appeared to hate Jon for, especially given that no one could say that Jon's rise was as a result of the connections he had. "When soldiers in a unit maintains their clean-cut appearance as well as cohesive looks, it shows the unit is well organized and detailed and a battalion of organized units is an unbreakable military. The whole is not what it is without the little factors that serve as the building blocks which form the whole." He appraised Jon and moved back a little. "Leaders are expected to use good judgment to determine if the grooming standards of the men under him are considered appropriate. This won't do," he said, looking Jon up and down, "I have somewhere to be in a few minutes so I can't follow through with what is expected of me, but when you come to base tomorrow. All of this," he pointed at Jon's beard and the length of his hair, "should be gone."  
  
  
  
"I'm afraid, I can't do that, ser."  
  
  
  
"Why not?"  
  
  
  
"Because I wear this insignia on my shoulder, ser."  
  
  
  
Daenerys' eyes widened slightly and she watched Major Thorne's face turn red with rage while Jon stood stone-faced with his eyes ahead.  
  
  
  
"Thorne!" A higher ranking officer called. The transformation from angry superior to disciplined subordinate was instant.  
  
  
  
"Ser!"  
  
  
  
The senior officer beckoned to him as he greeted her, "Miss Stormborn." At that, Major Thorne looked in her direction and offered her a thin smile.  
  
  
  
She returned his smile and heard the higher ranking officer say as a after thought, "At ease, Captain."  
  
  
  
"Ser." Jon saluted until they were out of sight.  
  
  
  
"You shouldn't goad him like that if you ever want him to stop being a thorn in your side," Daenerys said, walking to meet Jon.  
  
  
  
"Oh, look who is full of jokes," he said, turning to face her.  
  
  
  
"I couldn't resist," she said, smiling. "Beautiful day, isn't it?"  
  
  
  
The day was bright and dry. The ground wet with this afternoon's rainfall. A few sparse clouds were racing across the sky, chased by a cold, keen wind.  
  
  
  
Jon looked around as if he hadn't noticed before. "Daenerys," he nodded in greeting.  
  
  
  
"Captain."  
  
  
  
"You know you can address me informally when we're alone, don't you?" he said, gesturing his hand so they could walk together.  
  
  
  
She knew that, but she'd referred to him by his title for so long that it was only natural now. She'd known Jon for nine months now, but in most of that time, he'd been a little more than a familiar stranger to her. Yes, they had the same close friends, but she'd come to Westeros with an impression of him that overshadowed who he was to Missandei and that had, in a way, set the tone for how she interacted with him up until recently. He was Ned Stark's son. It was quite the coincidence. Tywin Lannister, together with some other powerful leaders in the realm, amongst whom was Ned Stark, had not merely ousted her family from the Seven Kingdoms; he had destroyed the entire family. Everything about House Targaryen and their loyalists was buried under the sea or scattered in the wind. Except for her.  
  
  
  
No one knew that about her and she had only come to find out about her true heritage a few years ago. Before then, the father she knew was Williem Nestys and she'd been raised to believe that he was originally from Braavos and had wed a woman from Lys who bore him two children: Viserys and herself. According to her father, her mother had been sickly and died during childbirth despite being in the care of the best medical personnel. She'd often wondered why she had a different last name from his and why Viserys didn't have any at all, but she never questioned it until she was going through his things after his death and she uncovered secrets that had sucked her into an abyss of existence that she could have never been able to dream up on her own.  
  
  
  
Williem Nestys was, in actuality, Williem Darry who had been one of the men most loyal to Aerys Targaryen and had served as a front for his family in the event that anything happened to him. When she'd first found out, she had rooted around the entire known world for more information and each layer that she uncovered drew her in deeper and deeper. Like the origin of her last name, for instance. During this time, an anonymous group had contacted her and she'd gotten to discover that there was a secret order of the red god who had been sympathetic to the cause of House Targaryen for centuries: allies of sorts. She couldn't exactly vouch for the veracity of what she'd heard, but it was said that the Blackfyres were the ones who had started the order. Some of them were in the highest levels of governments and power around the world, some of them were ordinary men and women from all works of life. And they were waiting for the one who was promised to retake the Seven Kingdoms. They had kept her identity hidden - that was why the Intelligence Unit in the King's Landing military base could find nothing on her that she didn't want to be found - and she was thankful for that which they had done for her, but she'd declined the many invitations to join them. She had her own battles to fight. She'd waged a silent war on Meereen and her sister city-states. One that her life had hinged on on more than one occasion. It had been a dramatic few years, to say the least. That was why it hadn't been difficult to take up the offer, or rather, suggestion that Missandei and Sam had brought up. Something different from all that came before.  
  
  
  
Learning more about her family had stirred a deep sense of belonging that she never knew she had and with it had come a certain feeling of enmity for those who had betrayed them or tried to destroy them. That was why she'd been wary about Jon. She knew of him when Sam and Missandei had been hired at the Wall, but finding out that the man who her sister had set out to marry was the son of the man who had been party to the destruction of everything the Targaryens had built...that had been put her on high alert at the beginning. Daenerys didn't take Missandei's well-being lightly and had worried about the family she would be getting into, but then she'd remembered all the things that Aerys had done. No one should have to carry the burden of their parent's wrong and objectively speaking, Ned Stark had only been doing what he had to do to protect the realm. It didn't stop her from having the thoughts she had about the Starks and the Lannisters and the Baratheons and all those who'd had a hand in casting the Targaryens down.  
  
  
  
For the most part, she'd kept all of this well concealed until she'd let a glimpse of it slip one day when Jon had joined her in the food court. After that day, she'd always felt like there were eyes pointed at the back of her head whenever they were in the same room together: like he wanted her to know he was onto her or that he knew something no one else did. It was an unsettling feeling that had followed her around. One day, however, it just...stopped. He grew more affable. Daenerys had been suspicious, but she was adept at keeping her calm in many a given situation, so she'd thought to play along. Time went on and he remained that way which made her relax enough to become more open and subsequently, had come to find that she actually liked Jon Snow as a person. The friendlier they became, the firmer her belief that Missandei had made the right choice.  
  
  
  
"Where are we headed?" she asked, looking behind her when she realized she had followed him past her car.  
  
  
  
He spared a glance. "My vehicle."  
  
  
  
"Your car," she said and stopped. "Jon, I can drive myself."  
  
  
  
It was the last working day of the week and on the last one of these on a monthly basis, their close group met at an agreed upon location to catch up, particularly because Sam and Gilly lived in the outskirts of the city which, without any hold ups on the roads, took them at least an hour to get into the city proper. This made for less time than they would have liked to come together.  
  
  
  
"I don't doubt it," he said without missing a beat, "but we both know Missandei's going to make me follow behind you until you get home like she has before, so you might as well," he said, taking out his car key from his pocket.  
  
  
  
Daenerys sighed. He did make a good point. The work she was hired to do was very sensitive in nature. With her AI, she was expected to predict the next moves of the Others; thus, it would put her in grave danger if word ever got out. She'd been offered security detail, but had refused. The idea of being under protection all the time reminded her of Meereen and the thick of those days had been very stifling. Nevertheless, since she'd begun to work with Jon's men, it hadn't stopped some of soldiers under him from taking it upon themselves to see to her safety when they could. Quite often, when she drove away from the base, there was at least one soldier following closely behind until he or they were satisfied that she was out of harm's way. Or so they said. She suspected that a few of them acted as her security detail discreetly  
  
  
  
"I'll still need to get my car to my house."  
  
  
  
Jon didn't respond to that, instead he looked around and snapped his fingers. "Private!"  
  
  
  
"Ser!" A fresh-faced, young soldier jogged to stand in front of them. He saluted Jon and turned red when he looked at Daenerys. "Ma--M'lad...Miss Stormborn," he stuttered and bowed awkwardly.  
  
  
  
Daenerys' response was gentle in order to ease his bashfulness, but she wasn't sure if it mattered with the next thing Jon said.  
  
  
  
"Have you never seen a woman before, Private Olly?"  
  
  
  
"No, ser. Yes ser. Ser!" Olly said, becoming even redder if that were possible. To his credit, it was the only visible indication that he was flustered.  
  
  
  
"Your keys, please," Jon said, holding out his hand. "He'll deliver it safely." When she hesitated, he added. "I promise. Come on." Reluctant, she handed them over and Jon passed them to Olly. "Your address is programmed into the operating system of the car, isn't it?"  
  
  
  
"It is, but it still needs to ID me before it can move anywhere," she told Jon as she walked back to her car. "Thank you, Olly," she said kindly after disabling that feature, resisting the urge to add that he be careful. He didn't look any older than fourteen.  
  
  
  
"Yes, Miss Stormborn. Ser," he gestured in respect and walked quickly away from them.  
  
  
  
"Be sure not to bow at all the women you pass by."  
  
  
  
"Jon."  
  
  
  
"What?"  
  
  
  
"He's just a boy," she said in the way of mild chastisement between friends.  
  
  
  
"He's sixteen. That's the age of maturity here in Westeros."  
  
  
  
"Yes, but even then, he's still not fully recognized as a man until he turns nineteen."  
  
  
  
"He's man enough for the army to send him to die if need be. That's old enough to not be treated like a child." It wasn't Jon being cruel. It wasn't even that he didn't care about Olly--had he not taken Olly under his wing and trusted him to be accountable, he wouldn't have given him the responsibility of driving her car--he just had a pragmatic way of delivering the truth. "It's fifteen in Essos, isn't it?"  
  
  
  
"What is?"  
  
  
  
"The age of maturity."  
  
  
  
"I can't speak for the entire continent, but in Meereen, fifteen is considered to be the legal age of maturity, yes."  
  
  
  
"Considered?"  
  
  
  
"It really depends on the situation," she said, observing how some things within the base would have been seen to be as mundane as the life outside its walls had it not been for all the people milling around in their uniforms, then she looked at him to explain further. "It could be anything from the status of their families to the even what the child considers their right, I don't know," she shrugged lightly. "To some families, fifteen is too young and to others, it's old enough."  
  
  
  
His car was parked in a parking lot she did not know existed. It was one of the only three cars there.  
  
  
  
"I'll help with those," he said, motioning for her to pass the things she had in her hands to him.  
  
  
  
"Jon, really," she said, refusing his help and getting into the passenger's seat.  
  
  
  
"Jon, is it?" he said in reference to her not addressing his title. He joined her in the car and turned on the ignition.   
  
  
  
"Well, we have one foot out of the premises already, Captain."  
  
  
  
"Ah," he replied smiling.  
  
  
  
Daenerys sat back and adjusted the seat to suit the length of her legs before crossing her feet at the ankles. She closed her eyes to enjoy the soothingness of the mellow music.  
  
  
  
"Daenerys," she heard. "Dany." She felt a light tap on her wrist.  
  
  
  
"I'm sorry I fell asleep."  
  
  
  
With a shake of his head, Jon brushed off her apology. "Do you want to wait here or come in?" He unbuckled his seatbelt quickly and opened his door to step out of the car. She sat up and looked around to see the familiar surroundings and the identical houses in the quarters where he and Missandei lived. A neighbour hailed in greeting and he waved back.  
  
  
  
"How long will you be in there?"  
  
  
  
"No longer than ten minutes. Quick shower and a quick change and I'll be out."  
  
  
  
Daenerys nodded and opened the door on her side of the car so she could stretch her legs.  
  
  
  
True to his word, he was out in time. He'd changed from his army uniform into something more contemporary.  
  
  
  
"How do I look? Do you think Missandei will like this?" he asked, trying to look at his reflection on a glass window.  
  
  
  
That was unexpected. They were friends well enough, but there were still some boundaries that held off a certain level of familiarity. She supposed they'd crossed one more milestone.  
  
  
  
When she didn't answer him, he looked at her briefly and went back to hurriedly styling his hair with his fingers. "You're a better dresser than the rest of us," he shrugged idly. "It was only a matter of time before I consulted you on this."  
  
  
  
He'd donned on a well fitted long black tee shirt over slim faded black jeans, a pair of dark brown suede boots and a tan khaki jacket. It looked effortless: different from the clean-cut, but dated way she'd seen soldiers garb themselves when they weren't in uniform.  
  
  
  
"Will she?" he asked again, spreading his arms apart.  
  
  
  
"You really don't need my help, Jon," she said.  
  
  
  
He thanked her anyway and got into his car so they could meet up with Sam, Gilly, and Missandei. On their way, they stopped by a popular fancy beverage shop where Jon went in. She watched him come out with a cup carrier which held five cups of whatever it was he bought.  
  
  
  
"Here," he said, handing her a cup of a yellow drink with crushed ice in it for which she thanked him. "Missandei mentioned you like lemons," he said, busying himself immediately with placing the cup carrier in a suitable position between them before getting in to start the car.  
  
  
  
They continued their drive and Jon turned up the music a bit. One sip of the drink and Daenerys' eyes grew large. She had to pinch her nose to swallow it. It was terrible. Not wanting to seem rude, but emboldened by his freedom of expression earlier when he'd asked her opinion of his clothes, she said, "This is the worst drink I've ever had."  
  
  
  
Jon shifted gears and regarded her quickly. "Let me try that," he muttered and picked up a cup, tipping off its cap. His mistake was taking a big gulp. "What the f--" he spat it back into the cup and coughed.  
  
  
  
Daenerys creased and tried not to laugh too hard.  
  
  
  
"Missandei's going to kill me."  
  
  
  
"I doubt that," she said.  
  
  
  
"It cost fifty golden dragons per cup."  
  
  
  
"Oh," Daenerys said sympathetically. "Well, it was nice knowing you." It wasn't that they wanted for money, but she knew her friend didn't abide by wasteful spending.  
  
  
  
"Ha," he said dryly and looked at the drink again. "It won't be a complete waste of money if the only gratification I get from this is seeing Sam's reaction."  
  
  


* * *

  
  
"Jon, you're a bastard," Sam said as Jon laughed at him and took a bite from the cut of deer on his plate.  
  
  
  
Laid out on the table for five was a large bowl of mushroom cream soup which hadn't lost even a single jot of its butter-laden silkiness. Beside it was a platter of plump shrimp, sautéed with bell pepper flakes and served with a salad of tomatoes, sweet lemon grass, cucumber, and corn. Between both bowls was a large leg of roasted deer dripping with a thick sauce and garnished with rich spices from the east. The cake looked nothing short of a masterpiece. It was fluffy as a pillow, warmish brown, and shot through with plum-colored swirls.  
  
  
  
"My drink tastes fine," Missandei said. Jon had actually stopped by another place to get Missandei and Gilly something more palatable.  
  
  
  
"Mine as well," Gilly concurred and made to taste Sam's drink.  
  
  
  
"No," Jon said and quickly took the drink away from her.  
  
  
  
"So, you're actually trying to kill me, aren't you?" Sam accused Jon and the faced Daenerys who was hiding her smile. "With you as his collaborator, no less."  
  
  
  
"I'm sorry," she said, unable to hold back her laughter which was infectious enough to catch on with Missandei and Gilly.  
  
  
  
"Disappointed." Sam shook his head and poured himself a drink of water.  
  
  
  
The rest of the evening went on pleasantly. The rich aroma of the dish wafted down from the kitchen throughout the entire room. Waiters and waitresses walked quickly between tables with trays of food for hungry customers. The later it got, the louder the din within the eating house.  
  
  
  
"I can't believe you didn't further your education," Gilly remarked, pushing away what was left of her cake.  
  
  
  
"Higher education in that sense wasn't for me," Dany said. "Sam and Missandei were more... academically inclined than I ever was."  
  
  
  
"Can you at least count to twenty?" Jon asked, sitting in a laid-back position and nursing a glass of what looked to be rum.  
  
  
  
"Eighteen at best," she returned.  
  
  
  
"So how did you come up with your innovation?" he asked more seriously.  
  
  
  
"I read. A lot. I lived in libraries, basically."  
  
  
  
"Dany, don't your feet hurt?" Missandei asked, looking at the very high heeled shoes she still had one.  
  
  
  
If they did before, she didn't notice, but when Missandei mentioned it, she felt aches around her ankles so, took her shoes off.  
  
  
  
"Abandoned formal education at the age of fifteen, changed the banking industry at age twenty," Sam chipped in, looking proud of her.  
  
  
  
"Why AI?" Jon asked, leaning his arms on the table.  
  
  
  
"It's a long story, but the short version of it is that Meereen, Astapor, and Yunkai are not what they seem. They're like golden caskets, if you will. Beautiful and costly on the outside, but the further you look within, the more you see that it's a rotting corpse that lies within. They're glorious cities, but the ones who are lured in to build it are discarded. In order to keep and maintain their reputations as tourist destinations, the ruling class makes the lives of the foreign workers impossible. So, you have people who can't return back to their homelands and have no choice but to become..."  
  
  
  
"Indentured servants," Missandei said quietly. Her kindly disposition replaced by one of anger.  
  
  
  
"That," Daenerys affirmed. "Or they turn to crime for survival."  
  
  
  
"So, how did that path lead you to what you do now?" Jon asked.  
  
  
  
"I had to hit them where it would hurt the most. Their pockets. They rely almost completely on the Free Cities for trade, the richest of which is Braavos."  
  
  
  
"It's one of the richest places in the world," Gilly interjected.  
  
  
  
Dany nodded. "Braavos has laws that could imprison people for what is common practice in places like Meereen. I thought of what I needed to do to get the attention of the largest institutions in Braavos and I came up with something that stood to make them, without contest, the richest place in the world within the next decade. I proposed to design something exclusively with them in mind, but for a price. They had to work with me to end what was happening in Meereen, which they did by threatening to cut those cities off from lucrative businesses. A year later, there were policies in place to that effect. I can't say that they've completely abandoned their old ways, but--"  
  
  
  
"So so many lives are a hundred times better for it," Missandei said, reaching to squeeze Dany's hand.  
  
  
  
She responded in kind and looked across the table where Jon sat. Sometimes, it was difficult to tell what he thought, but she took the slight incline of his head to mean that she'd made an impression.  
  
  
  
Alas, the night came to its end. Sam and Gilly had to drive all the way out of the city, Missandei back to the research centre where she worked while Jon would drop her where she lived. 

Daenerys and Jon made small talk along the way, but soon, all that could be heard were the hum of the air conditioner and her choice of music at a very low volume. She did some work on her phone for the remainder the journey  
  
  
  
"We're here," Jon announced.  
  
  
  
She looked up and saw her house a short distance away.  
  
  
  
"Thank you," she said when he parked behind her car. Olly got out of her car and ran to give her her keys after he'd acknowledged Jon. "Have you been here the whole time?" she asked when the window on her side slid down.  
  
  
  
"Yes, Miss Stormborn," he said.  
  
  
  
"You didn't have to be," she said apologetically, "I have a spare. I'd didn't realize... Have you had anything to eat?" she asked as he opened the door for her.  
  
  
  
"I'll feed him," Jon said.  
  
  
  
"Olly, I'm sorry," she said, touching his arm.  
  
  
  
"I didn't mind," he said, puffing out his chest.  
  
  
  
Jon chuckled. "I'll wait till you're inside," he told her. This quarters in the city was one of the most secure, but Jon and the other soldiers who saw her home had made it customary that she flickered the lights on her balcony to show that she felt safe enough for them to leave. "Olly," he commanded and Olly hurriedly sat where Daenerys had been. "Good night, Daenerys."  
  
  
  
"Captain."  
  
  
  
A few minutes later, she clicked on the control panel of her house and the light flickered, thereafter, she heard the purr of Jon's car engine.  
  



	4. Chapter 4

  
  
**JON**  
  
  
  
"Can it do anything with the intelligence you've been given so far?" General Stannis Baratheon asked concerning the AI with the ever present grimace on his face becoming even more severe.  
  
  
  
"If you would rather a prediction than a forecast, then yes," Daenerys answered, "but a forecast must have logic to it. The information according to Captain Snow," she looked at him briefly, "is not from any of your sources."  
  
  
  
"We wanted to develop and mature the intelligence, General. It's different accounts from different people. At the moment, nothing is reliable," Jon said to Stannis whose attention was divided between Jon and the large screen at the end of the conference room.  
  
  
  
"Isn't that what your AI presumably does? Foretell the future?" Stannis turned back to Daenerys.  
  
  
  
"It's a logical reasoning AI, but this still requires human direction to an extent, General."  
  
  
  
"What good are you here if your predictions depend on sourcing information as much as we do? Our soldiers beyond the Wall can find the Others on their own."  
  
  
  
"Then, why haven't they?" Daenerys asked calmly, though her back was straight--a sign that her patience was hanging by a thread. Stannis glowered at Daenerys, but she stood her ground. "If just anyone could do what I do, then everyone would do it. I didn't apply for this position. I was offered a place here and for good reason. The Others have weapons that are more advanced than anything your military has as far as I know, and their attacks are erratic - without pattern. So far, they've outwitted every strategy anyone on this side of the Wall has come up with." She took a brief pause. "Data comes with challenges. Bad data, or the issues extracting and cleaning it, can complicate things - or worse - render our predictions or forecasts inaccurate. I could work with what I have and there's a chance that going by that prediction, your soldiers would gain some ground, but there's an even higher chance that they'd all be killed. The entire purpose of my being here is to reduce the number of casualties you'd have by at least fifty percent. If you think you can do that without my proficiency, then I'd be happy to tender my resignation."  
  
  
  
The pictures on the screen flickered, casting dancing shadows about the room, but besides those movements, everyone else stood in place, watching and observing the impasse between Stannis and Daenerys.  
  
  
  
The General pushed his chair backward and stepped away from the massive mahogany table. "How much longer will this take?" he asked as if he couldn't wait to rid himself of her.  
  
  
  
Daenerys' smile lacked any warmth. "When your men hand me data I can work with."  
  
  
  
Stannis walked to where Daenerys was and stopped to size her up. He towered over her, but Daenerys remained unmoved. Jon was yet to see anyone intimidate her.  
  
  
  
"I need quick results," Stannis announced to the men in the room, who stood at attention, and left immediately after.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
The air was heavy with the fragrance of jasmine. The lake was no natural basin filled with melt water, but the luxury addition to a formal botanic garden by a city official with access to copious amounts of money. It was built for those in need of leisure time. Conveniently, it was located just beside the base. Jon followed Sergeant Gendry along the path and stepped closer to the edge as a cyclist rode by.  
  
  
  
The further down they walked into the premises, the thicker the shrubbery and the more quiet and serene it grew until Gendry stopped by a place where the clematis had grown over a building as if embracing it into the living garden.  
  
  
  
"Is she in there?" he asked.  
  
  
  
"Yes, ser," Gendry nodded. Jon had hardly been within the formal garden, let alone wandered this far into it. It was why Daenerys had told him to use Gendry as guide. Gendry announced his presence before walking into the space that was like a cloud forest with a dense growth of short trees and colourful flowers scattered around. Daenerys sat in the midst of the small building on a large piece of cloth laid on the ground with a cube projecting a holographic screen and a keypad on her laps. She looked...regal, almost.  
  
  
  
She smiled welcomingly at both of them and invited them both to seat on the bench adjacent to her, but Gendry declined and placed the satchel beside her.  
  
  
  
Daenerys looked quizzically at them and Jon explained, "It's from Missandei."  
  
  
  
"Again?" she asked, taking the bag and looking at what meal it was that his wife had prepared for her. Missandei had taken it upon herself to pack meals for Daenerys on some days alongside what she packed for him whenever she could. "Where's yours?" she asked Jon, spreading out the meal neatly on the cloth.  
  
  
  
"In my office. What are you doing?"  
  
  
  
"Tweaking and putting finishing touches on a program I wrote," she answered. "Sergeant, how's your health now?" she asked, looking up momentarily from what she'd been doing.  
  
  
  
"Better, Miss Stormborn, thank you," Gendry answered.  
  
  
  
Jon listened as they conversed, a little taken aback by how comfortable they were with each other. Gendry was one of those under him training directly with her. Daenerys had taken a fondness to some of his men and they had returned the goodwill ten times over.  
  
  
  
"You didn't have to bring this here," she said to Jon, sounding thankful. "This is more than I can consume by myself." She stopped and looked at both of them before taking out two tubs of food and placing the rest of it in the satchel again. "You should have this, Sergeant," she handed it to Gendry.  
  
  
  
Gendry's hesitation was shorter than the blink of an eye. "Thank you, Miss Stormborn," he said and took the satchel from her, opening it to inspect what was in it. "How much more work is left with the renovation underway?"  
  
  
  
"Renovation?" Jon asked. "Of what?"  
  
  
  
"My house," she answered Jon and to Gendry, she said, "Just the surroundings."  
  
  
  
"The boys and I will be there this evening to help," Gendry said.  
  
  
  
"The head builder thinks you're all trying to steal his job."  
  
  
  
"That old fucker," he said and caught himself. "Begging your pardon, Miss Stormborn."  
  
  
  
She laughed, but said nothing. Jon was about to ask more questions, but Gendry asked for permission to leave because he didn't have as much time for a break as both Jon and Daenerys did.  
  
  
  
After he left, Jon turned to her. "Renovation? Missandei hasn't mentioned anything about a renovation."  
  
  
  
"That's because Missandei doesn't know," Daenerys said, sounding somewhat guilty.  
  
  
  
"Hiding things from your friend, are you?"  
  
  
  
"No... I mean, I wouldn't put it that way. Look at this," she said, gesturing her hand at the food. "She has an incredibly busy order of events daily, yet it doesn't stop her from doing this. Can you imagine how much of her time she'd have to compromise just to make sure I'm settled properly here in Westeros?"  
  
  
  
Jon laughed quietly at the image of Missandei finding out about Daenerys' "secret" this late. "She's going to be offended that you've kept this from her."  
  
  
  
"And you got to know about it before she ever got a chance to find out. We're in this together."  
  
  
  
"That's just evil, Daenerys."  
  
  
  
She laughed at that and split the meal between both of them no matter how much Jon tried to dissuade her from doing so. "I'll tell her as soon as it's in a state where she's not compelled to drop everything she's doing for my sake. I'll tell everyone else by then if you don't mention anything."  
  
  
  
"You're asking the impossible," he said, enjoying the rich and buttery taste of the thick slice of bread. Jon pointed at the holographic screen. "Does this have anything to do with the meeting we had earlier?"  
  
  
  
"Yes," she said, looking a little annoyed. "Stannis...graceful as ever with his words," she finished incisively.  
  
  
  
"It's just Stannis being Stannis." The General, though not loved by most, was undeniably one of the more accomplished commanders on the base. He hadn't gotten to his position by making friends. "There are more reports on sightings of the Night King and his army. They've been quiet for some time now and it's making everyone be on edge to get this over with."  
  
  
  
"Does anyone know what their motives are?"  
  
  
  
"No."  
  
  
  
"I think I might have something here. They appear to be nomadic, but if the sightings are to be believed, then this," she gestured towards her set up, "can pinpoint their hub of operation nearby." She paused. "Is it considered a part of the Seven Kingdoms now that Tywin Lannister is involved?"  
  
  
  
"No. The realm still ends where the Wall serves as a barrier." To understate it, Tywin Lannister was an enigma. An authoritarian under whose rule the kingdom flourished and opponents disappeared. "If you're confident enough with your findings, then that shouldn't pose an issue. Are you sure about this?"  
  
  
  
"Not entirely," she said honestly.  
  
  
  
"Don't you have a very high success rate in your forecasts?"  
  
  
  
"With economies, yes, but nothing like this. This... is uncharted territory for me," she said. "But what's life without a challenge?" she smiled at him and he found himself returning it.  
  
  
  
They discussed some more things on the official front, but it wasn't long after that he checked his watch and stood. "It's time for me to head back. Gendry mentioned that he was stopping by to help you out. Do you need one more hand? If I'm getting into trouble with Missandei about this, I might as well go all the way."  
  
  
  
"I'd appreciate that."  
  
  
  
"See you there, then."  
  
  


* * *

Jon arrived at Daenerys' house an hour later than planned and by then, it seemed like all the work had been done for the day. He parked his vehicle beside an old truck and proceeded to the entrance. There were tools and hardware placed in different parts around the building. He jogged up the steps and rang the bell to which one of the younger soldiers in his unit opened the door.  
  
  
  
"Ser," Ronald Storm greeted.  
  
  
  
"Corporal."  
  
  
  
Outside, the walls were scraped and bare, the ground bare of any grass or flowers, but once he stepped across the threshold, it was an a blend of modernistic design and technology all the way. The floors were polished marble and the furniture high end with Lysene, and Valyrian touches. The only compromise to comfort was the sheepskin on the floor, so clean it was hard to believe anyone had ever stepped foot on it. A cheer erupted and echoed across the hall making him raise an eyebrow at Ronald.  
  
  
  
"There's a...um...contest of sorts."  
  
  
  
"I thought you all came here to help."  
  
  
  
"We're done for the day."  
  
  
  
Jon walked into the very spacious living area where a TV measuring more than eighteen feet displayed an ultra high definition picture of a battle scene and in front of it were Daenerys and Alyn Ambrose tapping away at the latest consoles of an expensive video game. It was such an odd scene to take in: five rugged-looking soldiers in uniform sitting or standing around Daenerys who, in contrast, was still dressed elegantly in work clothes, sitting gracefully with her bare feet crossed at the ankles, on a dining chair like it was a throne, tapping away at a console. It was an image of her that was far removed from what most people at the base perceived her to be.  
  
  
  
"Captain!" his men cheered, those who were seated stood, although they maintained their air of informality.  
  
  
  
Jon nodded at them and said, "What--"  
  
  
  
"Bend the knee," Daenerys said to Gendry, giving his game characters her finishing move. She looked up at Jon then with a grin on her face. "You made Ronald stand sentry waiting for you in perpetuity," she told him, passing the console to a soldier who took it eagerly from her and sat down when she stood to walk towards the kitchen area.  
  
  
  
"Since when do you play video games?" he asked, accepting the bottle of cold beer she passed to him.  
  
  
  
"I design AI for a living. You'd think I'd know a thing or two about that," she jutted her chin slightly in the direction of living area where the young men were engrossed with the display on the massive screen.  
  
  
  
"No, because all the times that Sam and I invited you to join us, I distinctly remember you saying you didn't know the first thing about any of it."  
  
  
  
"And you didn't think question that?"  
  
  
  
"Dany," he deadpanned.  
  
  
  
"Gendry made a good case for why I needed," she confessed.  
  
  
  
"And that TV?" He supposed it shouldn't have surprised him that she had it given her line of work, but since he'd gotten to know her, it didn't seem like something she'd own without some sort of suggestion.   
  
  
  
"That as well," she admitted. Her tired sigh didn't match the delight on her face as she stared at the TV. "Do you know that all of them take turns in escorting me back home no matter how late it gets or how many detours I take? When I decided to renovate this place, they all got it in their heads that they were duty-bound to help me. It was only a matter of time before we ended up here. With that TV."  
  
  
  
"That makes sense," Jon said, going along with her ruse. He leaned against the cold marble counter and took a sip of his beer, noting all the changes that had been made to her house - it looked nothing like it used to - then he took out his phone to capture a few pictures.  
  
  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
  
  
"Missandei," he stated simply.  
  
  
  
"Jon, you promised me you'd stay silent on this."  
  
  
  
He pointed a finger at his chest and raised his eyebrows.  
  
  
  
That made her laugh and immediately, there was a twinkle of mischief in her eyes. "I challenge you to a battle. If you can beat me," she pointed at the living area where the soldiers where engrossed with the battle onscreen, "then you can tattle."  
  
  
  
He knew she was aware he'd tell Missandei either way, but he accepted her challenge. As he downed his drink in one long swig, he overheard her regretfully interrupt the current bout and placate the soldiers who were protesting or trying to negotiate finishing what they were doing. Setting the near empty bottle down on the counter, Jon left the kitchen area for the large living space and took the console that Gendry handed him.  
  
  
  
"Shall we begin?" she asked.  
  
  
  
"You sound very audacious for someone who's about to be at my mercy," Jon noted casually. He took a seat on the long, upholstered seating rested against the wall and flicked through the options and controls. It wasn't quite what he was used to, but when he was up to speed, the game began.  
  
  
  
Initially, he experimented with the gameplay which gave Daenerys the edge, but only momentarily. It didn't take long for him to gain an advantage. Soon and surely enough, he won.  
  
  
  
"That was easy," Jon said, but he didn't think Daenerys heard him.  
  
  
  
"That's not right," she said, frowning and turning her console this way and that. "No one's ever beaten me at this."  
  
  
  
Mychel Redfort coughed and turned away from them while everyone else carried on suspiciously.  
  
  
  
"Let's have another go at this," she said.  
  
  
  
"Alright," he chuckled and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees.  
  
  
  
He beat her quicker and more easily and the second time around.  
  
  
  
"Again," she said, unable to mask the hint of competitiveness he heard in her voice.  
  
  
  
The third defeat was even easier. With each defeat, the cheers grew quieter and it became obvious to Jon that his men had been letting her win. By the fourth, he was enjoying himself so much. He wasn't trying nearly as hard as she was, but he thwarted all her attacks with ease. The fifth defeat was humiliating; it ended almost immediately after it began.  
  
  
  
Jon laughed when his main character kicked the headless armoured body of hers. He grinned and shrugged a shoulder impudently when she cast him a look. Leaning back and slinging an arm on the back of the seating, he said, "You mean to tell me, you haven't realized that they've been letting you win?"  
  
  
  
A look of surprise crossed her face, but it was quickly replaced with mild annoyance which she directed at the five young men who had gotten busy with irrelevant activities during the course of the game or where looking elsewhere. "Is that true."  
  
  
  
Rolland mumbled something and when Dany pinned him with her gaze, he grinned contritely. "I'm sorry. The Sergeant put us up to this."  
  
  
  
"Of course, he did," she said, looking around for Gendry who had somehow found his way to the kitchen area.  
  
  
  
"No one here had the heart to tell you."  
  
  
  
"I'm disappointed," she tutted facetiously. "In all of you." She glanced at Jon. "Stop gloating."  
  
  
  
"I haven't said anything," he said, smiling shamelessly. A movement caught his eye and he noticed figures in a picture, hung at the far end of the living area, metamorphose and take shape to tell the time. "Is that a clock?" he asked. "Seven hells, It's late." he said, getting on his feet.  
  
  
  
He checked his phone to see he'd gotten a message from Missandei. If he left now, he'd still make it home before she did. As he began to leave, so did the other soldiers. Daenerys put on airs, feigning the hurt of betrayal, but it was all light-hearted. She saw them all to the door and bid them a good night.  
  
  
  
Jon tossed his keys to Gendry and offered to drop Rolland Storm off. His men had driven here in Mychel Redfort's vehicle, but since Gendry and Roland Storm lived in areas that were along his route, he thought it more convenient for them.  
  
  
  
During the drive, Gendry and Roland ribbed each other whilst Jon listened on in amusement. Gendry fiddled with the car controls, at the same time, he accelerated the vehicle when they passed by a city guard. It was a violation of traffic rules, but their uniform made them less liable to consequences than the average citizen. Nonetheless, Jon cautioned Gendry because he knew the Sergeant had done it to mess with the city guard.  
  
  
  
The discussion between the two younger men ranged from their drill that morning to the fixtures of the tourneys that were set to be had in honour of the Age of Heroes and everything in between. In that time, Jon's thoughts drifted off to the activities he had planned for the next day. Then he updated Missandei on how he'd spent his day. When their conversation segued into Daenerys' house and what it would feel like to afford a place like hers, Gendry said, "Permission to speak freely, ser."  
  
  
  
Jon looked over at Gendry in mild curiosity. "Permission granted."  
  
  
  
"With respect ser, Miss Stormborn is never letting us within the parameters of her home again because of you."  
  
  
  
Jon laughed, honestly surprised that she was as bad at the game as she was. "Did you lot really let her win all the time?"  
  
  
  
Gendry, with his eyes fixed on the road, nodded and turned the steering wheel gently with the heel of his palm. "We had to."  
  
  
  
"When we just started helping her out, one day we took a break in between lifting heavy shit to eat, after the meal one of the boys found an old cyvasse board, I've forgotten who..." Rolland paused to recollect the memory.  
  
  
  
"Mychel," Gendry supplied.  
  
  
  
"Yes," Rolland snapped his finger. "It was Mychel. Mychel found the cyvasse board and before we got back to work, we decided to get a game in. She saw us and wanted to try."  
  
  
  
"So, she challenged Mychel?" Jon guessed.  
  
  
  
"No. We invited her for a short game. She lost the first game to Mychel. _Then,_ she challenged him there. It was a friendly competition for the rest of us--"  
  
  
  
"But she was determined win and she played another game and won him," Gendry cut in. Jon was trying to understand the correlation between what he'd just been told and why they always let Daenerys win when he added, "She went on to challenge each and every one of us." Jon threw back his head and laughed heartily. "She beat us too. In one sitting. By the time we were done, the day had already gone away from us and we couldn't achieve anything else that day. That's why it was an easy decision to let her win any and all other games."  
  
  
  
"That and...no one really had the heart to tell her the truth," Rolland said and added absently, "To be fair, she's untouchable with games involving strategy."  
  
  
  
Still mirthful, Jon asked, "How often do you go there?"  
  
  
  
Rolland coughed and Jon spared him a glance. "Well...erm...whenever she needs help."  
  
  
  
"How often does she need help?" he asked. From what he'd seen of the refurbishment, Daenerys' house would be considered paradise for anyone enthusiastic about the latest technology and he suspected there was more to their willingness to help than met the eye.  
  
  
  
"Often," Rolland said. "That TV...," he trailed off wistfully.  
  
  
  
Jon scoffed and shook his head.  
  
  
  
"She's also really beautiful to look at."  
  
  
  
Immediately, Jon's demeanour snapped from light-hearted to alert. "Is that what my men have been up to? Using this as an opportunity to feed your perversion?" He asked sharply. All signs of joviality had melted away. Gendry sat up quickly, the laid-back bearing was replaced with the formal stiffness that was instinctive to all soldiers.  
  
  
  
"No, Captain," Gendry said, his eyes never leaving the road. "But it would be a lie to deny that her looks played a part in how keen were to avail service. At the start, at least. Ser."  
  
  
  
Jon kept himself from smiling. Gendry was nothing if not honest. He also toed the line of being irreverent with his superiors and disregarding of rules which Jon allowed for a reason. He'd taken a special interest in the younger man because he had all the prerequisites for becoming a special forces combatant. Jon was close to recommending him to the recruiters who silently and secretly observed soldiers to fish out those most suitable for the more elect roles in the military. Notwithstanding, Jon took the lives of his men personally. He didn't just see them as grunts to order around: he truly cared for their well-being. As such, they were a reflection of his leadership. But that wasn't the only reason for his reproach. Daenerys, he'd known her for close to a year now and in that time, he'd come to consider her as a part of his pack. He felt responsible for her in a way similar to how he felt responsible for Sam and Gilly.  
  
  
  
"Would you prefer the bus stop, Rolland?" Jon asked. He knew Gendry understood the change in topic was an indication that Jon's severity had tapered off.  
  
  
  
"Yes, ser," Rolland said eagerly.  
  
  
  
After Rolland was dropped off at the bus stop, Gendry drove until he was close to where he lived. He parked the car and they both stepped out so Gendry could hand Jon his keys.  
  
  
  
"Thank you, ser," Gendry said.  
  
  
  
"At ease, Gendry."  
  
  
  
"Ser."  
  
  
  
Jon nodded and got into the driver's seat.  
  
  
  
When he got home, he met Missandei in a conference with Daenerys on the other end of the line.  
  
  
  
"Oh, Jon's home," he heard her say. "Dany says, ‘Hello, tattletale.’" Jon shook his head and smiled. Missandei had probably called to express disappointment in her friend for being secretive. "I can't believe you actually kept that from me, Dany," she said to Daenerys.  
  
  
  
He went to where Missandei was and planted a peck on her upturned lips and her head.  
  
  
  
" _Your food is on the dining table_ *," she mouthed.  
  
  
  
He thanked her and walked away from her. Right now, all he wanted was a good shower and what he knew was the decadent meal that awaited him. 

**DAENERYS**  
  
  
  
The moon hung full and hazy beneath an eclipse of blazing stars. The sky was a cluster of faint and bold light. The constellations in Westeros altered according to seasons, she'd read somewhere. These were the same stars that greeted the ancients - Aegon the Dragon, the Lion of the Night, and all the great legends that were still sung across all the lands - the same ones that would be there for thousands of years to come. Daenerys felt like a speck of dust in the wind of time in that moment.  
  
  
  
"Dragonrider."  
  
  
  
Her head snapped to the side and she smiled and shook her head at Jon who walked across the cliff to join her.  
  
  
  
He leaned his arms on the deck railing and looked down. "That's a very steep drop."  
  
  
  
"Mm," she hummed in agreement. A few months earlier, Jon had brought Missandei here to Harrenhall to celebrate the first year that marked their marriage. Outwardly, it was blackened ruin, but inside, the monstrous castle had been reconstructed and remodelled into a luxurious resort with so many activities for recreation. They'd both enjoyed their stay here so much that both of them persuaded their small group to come here this month for their monthly meetup. Gilly hadn't been able to make it because of the children, but she'd encouraged Sam not to deny himself the fun. So, four of them were here together. "Missandei and Sam?"  
  
  
  
"Missandei's asleep." Since there were no available to rooms in the castle itself, the four of them had rented one of the houses built into the small mountains close to Harrenhal. It still belonged to the same establishment that owned the main castle. "Sam...is Sam."  
  
  
  
Daenerys laughed quietly in understanding. Their friend could be overly critical of things.  
  
  
  
"Have you gotten it out of your system? The flying in I mean?"  
  
  
  
"No," she said. It was something she could see herself doing every day for the rest of her life if given the chance. The main attraction to the resort was the recreation of the story of Aegon the Conqueror. It was a whole simulation with virtual reality and an actual flight from a glider with an open top to imitate flying on a dragon. The first few times, she'd flown with a guide, but after that, she got the hang of it and had gone at least thirteen more times. They'd been here for two days. Tomorrow was their last day here and she couldn't wait for the sun to rise so she could go flying again. It was an indescribable feeling.  
  
  
  
"It must be the Valyrian in you."  
  
  
  
"Some people don't believe dragons existed."  
  
  
  
"Really?" Jon asked. "There's a lot of evidence that they did."  
  
  
  
"There are fossils of firewryms in Old Valyria and those of wyverns in Sothryos so why not dragons?"  
  
  
  
"Why not dragons?" he repeated as if in agreement with her. "If you had one what would you name it?"  
  
  
  
She grew thoughtful for a moment and said, "Drogon."  
  
  
  
Jon raised his eyebrows a little. "Drogon." When she nodded, he said, "Drogon the dragon... Hm."  
  
  
  
When she realized how it came across, she grew amused. "When you say it like that, it sounds silly, but it is a homage of some sort to someone I used to know. Someone who changed my life."  
  
  
  
"Drogo?"  
  
  
  
"You know about him?" she asked and then answered her question. "Missandei."  
  
  
  
"And Sam, but mostly Missandei. She's mentioned him a few times. He must have left quite the impression. Don't worry, I won't pry."  
  
  
  
"I don't mind," she said, pushing away from the deck railing to lean her back against it. "He's a very important part of my past."  
  
  
  
Jon looked open to hearing more. "First love?"  
  
  
  
She smiled and turned back around to rest her palms on the deck railing. "First many things. I don't even know where to begin. How old where we, Missandei and I? Eleven? Twelve? There was this Dothraki boy, Rakharo, who was a year younger than we were, that attended the same school as we did. Back then, everyone left him alone...like they were afraid to go near him. Naturally, that meant I had to be friends with him."  
  
  
  
"Naturally," Jon interjected with the corners of his mouth turned up. He was resting his jaw on his palm which was supported by his elbow.  
  
  
  
"He was a very difficult boy to befriend the first time around. Missandei didn't want to be a bother, but I persisted and after a while, he stopped posturing. Before we became friends, he was usually one of the last people to get picked up from school, but after that, he'd follow Missandei and I home - we almost always went to her house - he'd spend the day with us and by the end of it, one of Missandei's parents would drop him off. He didn't like to speak about his family. One day, it just so happened, that one of his brothers - or who I thought to be his brother - came to pick him up. He was a giant in my eyes at the time. He rode on this huge motorcycle. He had long hair that was half way down his back with a few bells woven into it."  
  
  
  
"Drogon," Jon joked.  
  
  
  
Daenerys gave Jon a look, but continued. " _Drogo._ I remember Missandei was indoors with a tutor. Rakharo and I were playing outside.  
He was about twenty - he'd just turned twenty, if my memory serves me right. I was terrified. He had this frightening scowl on his face, but I was captivated all the same. After that day, Rakharo stopped following us back home. In school, he avoided us. It worried me at first and then it just irked me. So, I found out where he lived - he'd been very adamant that we not know - I found out anyway, and went there."  
  
  
  
"Stubborn," Jon said with laughter in his voice.  
  
  
  
"It was a large piece of land in a part of Meereen that many considered dangerous. I didn't know at the time. After an hour there, when I couldn't find Rakharo, I went asking around for Drogo--"  
  
  
  
"You'd lost your fear of him?"  
  
  
  
"Not at all. My eagerness to see Rakharo and give him a piece of my mind just robbed me of any sense. I didn't know his name so I tried describing to anyone who cared enough to give me an audience, but he could have been any one of the young men in that place. By this time, word was getting around that there was a young girl looking for someone. My hair and my eyes don't exactly make me inconspicuous," she indicated at both features with a casual wave of her hand. "Before I knew it, I was brought before the leader of the Dothraki there. It was none other than Drogo."  
  
  
  
She paused for a while, recollecting those early memories with some nostalgia.  
  
  
  
"A leader of all the Dothraki in Meereen or just a small group of them?"  
  
  
  
"All of them. Thousands of them. It's called a _khalasar_ ," Daenerys affirmed.  
  
  
  
Jon seemed impressed. "So, what happened?"  
  
  
  
"I stuttered my way around my reason for being there. He just looked at me without saying anything. I'd never been that afraid. Then he spoke in their tongue and about twenty minutes later, Rakharo was brought before him. He spoke again in their tongue and Rakharo translated. Rakharo wasn't coming back to the school. I think my anger right then made me bold. I said it was a stupid decision. He actually smiled at that, but soon afterwards, I was sent home."  
  
  
  
Jon waited patiently for her to continue.  
  
  
  
"Every day, I'd go back there to persuade him in Rakharo's stead. Nothing came of it. The Dothraki found it amusing initially and after a while, my routine became a mundane part of their life. Drogo led the Dothraki, but the people who saw to it that his orders were maintained were the Bloodriders. They interacted with the Meereenese on behalf of the rest of their people."  
  
  
  
"Drogo was the General and the Bloodriders his right-hand men."  
  
  
  
"Yes." That was apt. "They worked separately from the rest of the khalasar. They had a large shed where they built all kinds of vehicles. When I saw that no one took me seriously. I changed tactics. I began to go to the shed instead. Every day. Every time I wanted to speak with Drogo, people either ignored me or they dealt patronizingly with me. It was impossible to get across to him, but it didn't stop me from trying. I imagine they all got tired of being pestered: he finally saw me again. With Rakharo as his translator. He said Rakharo would come back if I learnt how to speak the Dothraki tongue in three months."  
  
  
  
"Little did he know you had Missandei."  
  
  
  
"Indeed, but I'd also been there so often that I began to pick up a few things."  
  
  
  
"How many languages do you speak now?" he asked suddenly.  
  
  
  
"The Common Tongue, the Dothraki tongue, the Ghiscari tongue, and High Valyrian," she counted on her fingers. "Four. The Dothraki tongue is a very difficult language to learn so Drogo thought I'd fail," she continued her retelling of the past. "I became fairly fluent in a little less time than three months."  
  
  
  
She could see her storytelling entertained him.  
  
  
  
"Did you ever find out why Rakayro was withdrawn?" he asked.  
  
  
  
" _Rak-ha-ro_ ," she corrected. "There was an ongoing war between his horde and another that was trying to encroach on his territory. It wasn't safe for Rakharo to leave the place so I spent a lot of time there. Sam and Missandei were afraid," she laughed. "When I wasn't with them or at home, I was there. Rakharo didn't return to school until all the dust settled as was Drogo's plan, anyway, but I'd just embedded myself deeper in the acceptance of his people. I was considered one of them."  
  
  
  
"How did it get to this point where you would name a dragon for him if you had one."  
  
  
  
"Hmm...," she breathed in deeply and leaned her arms on the railing again. "Biggest influence on my life till date. By fourteen, I experienced budding love," she said. "He knew, but considered me too young. I was still youthful in many ways. I thought I knew everything. When I turned fifteen and I was considered old enough by the law to make mature decisions, he allowed me more access to see what it was he really did. To see test my strength, basically."  
  
  
  
"Who was...is the real Drogo?"  
  
  
  
"A very brutal man."  
  
  
  
"Yet, you still hold him in high esteem."  
  
  
  
"It's complicated. And it's not so much high esteem as it is acknowledgement. The fortitude to face any kind of adversary is one of the things I learned from our... association. He had an arrangement with all the city-states. He provided them with foreign labourers and they let him do whatever he wanted."  
  
  
  
"Where was your father in all this? I can't imagine he would have allowed you anywhere near Drogo based on the things Sam and Missandei have said about him."  
  
  
  
"The thing is, I was able to keep them from it or hide it from them. I saw it like I was protecting them. And my father let me have my way around that time because my brother had just been murdered."  
  
  
  
"Damn."  
  
  
  
"I didn't really understand the gravity of what he did. I was young and in love. I knew they were a crime syndicate, but I thought they just stole from the rich to distribute it amongst themselves. It wasn't noble per se, but it could be rationalized. We got involved with each other romantically a year later. Fierce warrior, gentle lover." She and Jon had become better friends over the course of time, yet this didn't seem like something she should have disclosed. She went on regardless. "Some of his men questioned his reputation because of me," she laughed.  
  
  
  
"Was it mutual? The love?"  
  
  
  
"Yes," she said with certainty. "It was."  
  
  
  
"How did it go wrong?"  
  
  
  
"Rakharo's death. It opened my eyes. When he turned fourteen, Rakharo was conscripted into the rank of what you'd consider the equivalent of a Private in the army. He fulfilled his duties well enough for two years, but one night, they went on a raid and he didn't return with them. It messed me up. What I couldn't reconcile was how it was handled. It seemed so...callous. But the likes of Drogo don't grieve. They see it as a way of life for a brothers-at-arms to fall. I was seventeen by then. Drogo always said I had strength of character, but my soft heart kept me from my full potential. After Rakharo died, there was so much violence. All the while that happened, I began to look more deeply into the details of what exactly it was that Drogo did. That was how I got to discover his ties to the foreign workers and the Great Masters." At his questioning look, she explained, "The ruling class. The Great Masters are the ruling class. Drogo's horde would lure the poor and desperate from their different homelands with the promise of a better life and when they got there, they were subjected to indentured servitude. And they were people from all over Essos: Naath, Lys, Tyrosh, Volantis, Pentos...everywhere. After they were used and drained, with no where to turn to, they were vulnerable and desperate enough to be foot soldiers or the metaphoric human shields in whatever wars that the hordes or any criminal groups waged. This made them the people visible to the public eye whenever any crimes were...are committed. Everything is blamed on them. Not the Dothraki. Not the Great Masters. They have that reputation and it created this underlying hatred the natives have for them."  
  
  
  
"How can anyone tell a native from one who isn't? You're not native to Meereen yet you didn't suffer this."  
  
  
  
"You can tell. If you go there and stay there long enough, you'd be able to make a distinction from a native of Ghiscari descent, people like Sam and I, and Missandei, and every other subgroup of people who make up that society. You'd just have to see it to know."  
  
  
  
"What was the straw that broke the camel's back?"  
  
  
  
"It wasn't one thing. It was following a clue down to its root. Along that path, I saw a lot of things I didn't want to see before. I got to befriend a lot of these people. The Dothraki looked on them with disdain, but I was foreign enough to build relationships with them without it being considered a slight to them. The worst response my actions could garner was disapproval or scorn from a handful of them. As people, we're designed to make connections with others and so I did. I had to do something about their plight. It became a burden to me. I became a voice for them and it stood in the way of some of his commanders. There were many... _many_ councils that were held where matters were brought before Drogo and I had to defend myself or those who couldn't. He always went for strength and I knew that so I played it to my advantage. But I also know he indulged me. He couldn't be seen as weak, however, when his leadership was challenged, some people disappeared. The Dothraki who challenged him and the foot soldiers who gave reason for him to be questioned. I knew..." she closed her eyes. "It was their way, he told me."  
  
  
  
The fire from the built-in fire pit behind them warmed her back, but the mountain air around them was freezing.  
  
  
  
"Strong will, soft heart," he murmured softly.  
  
  
  
Daenerys opened her eyes and looked at Jon. Maybe it was because the spotted black canvas of the sky before them had a rich quality to it, but she felt like the air had been thickened somehow. It suddenly felt like being here now and telling him these things was...not wrong, but not quite right. "Our ideals grew too far apart. As bad as he was, the root of that particular problem ran much deeper than Drogo, and I was determined to put an end to it. It's funny: I had all these good intentions that were in contrast to his, but I still loved him. We loved each other, but what we stood for could not be compromised for the other. All the while, Drogo became more powerful. My work, my AI, I couldn't do it and, in good conscience, still be with him. One had to go for the other."  
  
  
  
"You chose rightly."  
  
  
  
She smiled sadly. "You know the rest of it. When it all came to head and the laws that passed put him in jeopardy, I sent a message to give him a head start."  
  
  
  
"Despite all he did?"  
  
  
  
Daenerys shrugged. "It's one of those things that I wish I hadn't done, but I'm glad I did. I hear he's returned to Vaes Dothrak, but incapacitated in all the ways that matter."  
  
  
  
"It doesn't sound like he knew you wanted to go after his source of livelihood while you were still with him."  
  
  
  
"I can't say for certain if he knew or not. There were instances where he acted oblivious to things, but I'd later find out that he'd been aware all along. I don't know."  
  
  
  
"You still love him," he said.  
  
  
  
"No," she shook her head. "Not like that. I learned a lot from him and I'll always be grateful for that, but I'm older and wiser now, and with age, I'm not given to flights of fancy."  
  
  
  
Jon chuckled and stood upright. "You've lived a rich life, Daenerys Stormborn."  
  
  
  
"Some might say."  
  
  
  
"Sam and Missandei don't know all this, do they?"

No one did, really, and she didn't know why she was disclosing any of this to Jon.

  
  
"Not in depth, no." 

"What if I use this information against you?"

"Will you?"

He smiled a little. "No."

"I thought so. It's not incriminating in Westeros. Nothing can be done about it here."  
  
  
  
Jon turned at the sound of the glass door opening. It was Sam. He yelped when he stepped out. "It's cold!"  
  
  
  
"Tarly," Jon said.  
  
  
  
"What...," Sam looked behind him to read the time, "...are you...have you been up since after supper, Daenerys? You've been here all night?"  
  
  
  
Daenerys looked behind Sam in response. It was a little over four in the morning.  
  
  
  
"You still have a ridiculous sleeping pattern, Dany. Some things don't change," Sam said. He wasn't wrong. "I saw all the lights on and heard faint voices." He yawned and scratched his arms. "I need all the sleep I can get before we head home. See you both when the sun comes up," he announced, walking back into the house.  
  
  
  
Had Sam not come, she wouldn't have known that time had gone that quickly. Even at that, she wasn't ready to leave. She felt strange.  
  
  
  
Both of them stood quietly together for a little while, but the moment had come to its end. "I should get some sleep," she said. The sun wasn't far away. "Good night, Jon."

"Wait. Please wait here." He went into the house and came back out with a small parcel. "It's for Missandei," he said, handing the box to her.  
  
  
  
She took it from him and opened it. In it was a very beautiful pair of earrings.  
  
  
  
"Do you think she'll like them?"  
  
  
  
"Yes." She closed the box and handed it back to him. In their group, everyone had something unique to bond over with someone else. With her and Gilly, it was the children. With Jon, it was this. Her opinion on what Missandei liked. "She will. Good night, Jon."  
  
  
  
"Sleep well."  
  
  


* * *

  
  
"No, that won't yield too much for you in the long run," she said to Yara Greyjoy, a naval officer who had been posted to this base temporarily. She was surrounded by three other soldiers who had cornered her for some financial advice and she'd been at it for the past thirty minutes. While her main field of study was artificial intelligence, she was well versed in economics. "In the Seven Kingdoms, the investments with the best returns at the moment are money market funds, saving bonds, and treasury securities."  
  
  
  
"Of the three, what would you do in my shoes? I intend to shit gold like Tywin Lannister before I retire."  
  
  
  
She was about to speak when she heard someone hail, " _Jon Snow_ ," in greeting. Her heartbeat sped up and she grew self-conscious of her appearance, tempering the urge to smoothen her hair and straighten her clothing. It confused her, this reaction. She tried to pretend like she was unaware of his presence, but that was even more unusual. Since they'd returned from Harrenhal a month ago, it had been like this. Their interactions were the same as they always were, but her actions around him had become deliberate and careful.  
  
  
  
She was still debating with herself on whether or not to acknowledge him when he made the choice easy for her. His attention was needed elsewhere and he had to turn back. She felt her usual sense of calm again.  
  
  
  
After closing hours, as she drove herself home, her thoughts flitted around how much of the day's work she had to do when she got home. She was making plans in her head for what was left of the day as well as the next, listing her targets in order of priority. As her mind circled through all she'd accomplished that day and those she'd worked with, without warning, Jon's face flashed through her thoughts. Her hands tightened on the steering wheel briefly. Slowly, she loosened her fingers from their hold and forced her mind back on the things she had to do.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it. Please leave a comment below.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be out on or before Thursday. Hope you like this one. It's short, but meaningful.

**JON**

He was walking through the brightly lit, brick-lined tunnel under the Hill of Rhaenys when he saw a familiar crown of silver hair. 

He parted through the crowd until he was close enough to be heard. "Daenerys." 

She stopped and turned around. So did two other men behind her. Jon grew alert until she nodded at them and they walked away. 

"You have security detail now?" he asked in his usual friendly manner with her, staring off at them as they left. 

"They're messengers from the Sealord of Braavos," she explained. 

Sometimes, it was easy to forget how long her reach was. 

"So, why are they following you around?"

"I asked."

He regarded her sharply. "You don't feel safe?"

"I do. I just needed some assistance."

"Hm," he said and smiled. 

"What brings you here? A play?" she asked and looked up at the Dragonpit that sat on the hill.

"An exhibition. After it ended, I decided to wander around." The conversation flowed, but something was amiss. "Are you... alright?"

"Yes," she replied coolly and he knitted his brows. 

Somehow he felt like he was burdening her with his presence. He felt almost unwelcome. Not sure of whatever it was, he ascribed it to her being in the middle of something important. "I should get going," he said.

She inclined her head. "Send my love to Missandei."

* * *

Following when he saw her under the Hill of Rhaenys, Daenerys' bearing towards him had remained the same. Like she was distant, but attempting to mask it. He'd thought it through and his mind kept going back to the night she'd told him of Drogo. He had it at the back of his mind that there was more to her than she was letting on, but his discernment had been honed to fish out those who weren't trustworthy and as was with his other friends, he knew without doubt that she could be trusted. Like she’d said, her past could not be used to incriminate her in Westeros. Besides, Intelligence had investigated her. But her asking if he would use the knowledge against her begged the question of how much or how little they had unconvered. It didn’t matter to him either way. What mattered was that she hadn’t been deemed a threat.

The strangeness had gone on longer than he could condone, so when he saw her at the food court in the base, he met her to ask her about it. Bluntly.

"What is the matter, Daenerys?" Jon asked, taking a seat across from her on the table. In the Hill of Rhaenys, he'd given her the benefit of the doubt, but this shit was recurring and he'd had enough. "You're not one to refrain from giving others a piece of your mind so if there's something you have against me," he shrugged impatiently, "have at it."

She looked up wide-eyed and said, "There's nothing..."

"Daenerys what is it, really?" he questioned. They were close enough to have this discussion. She regained her composure and shook her head slightly. 

Jon observed her and watched her tap her fingers and her fingernails on the table. Then she flexed her fingers. Her actions spoke of nervousness, but there was hardly anyone he knew who was more self-assured than she was so it this was new. 

Jon studied her. Though her face was unreadable, when she tapped the table nervously again and stared at his forehead rather than look at his face, it struck him. _Impossible,_ he thought dismissively

After then however, whenever they crossed paths, he began to pick up on things - like the way she looked at him or how she tried not to worry her hands anytime she saw him. Things which led him to a conclusion that seemed implausible, though he knew it to be true.

* * *

"A utopia is not under the slightest obligation to produce results: it's sole function is to allow its devotees to condemn what exists in the name of what does not." Tywin Lannister's voice rang loud and clear through the speakers in the drinkery.

Jon swirled what was left of the black beer in his mug and listened to the Premier address the realm. Behind him were members of his family. Cersei Lannister looked disdainfully at the cameras. Beside her was her brother, Jaime Lannister. A fine soldier, albeit one wasted on the sidelines because the Lannisters seemed more interested in prestige than actually getting their hands in the dirt. It hadn’t always been like this, but for whatever reason, Jaime had been exempted from participating in warfare. In front of Jaime stood Tyrion Lannister. _The Dwarf of Casterly Rock_ and, according to widespread knowledge, Tywin Lannister's eternal regret. He'd earned the nickname, _The Imp_ , for his cunning and if there was anyone amongst the Lannisters who was worthy of the position that had been bestowed upon him by Tywin Lannister, it was Tyrion. Or so he'd heard. “ _Hate him or love him, there is no denying that that is Tywin's son. He has his father's mind for politics_ ,” Robb had once said. Jon always found it curious how his hair was a mixture of black and golden blond. Different from that which was the trademark of House Lannister. Tyrion's was paler than the rest of his family’s. _Pale, but not silver._ Images of long and thick silver hair stole into his thoughts uninvited. Jon knocked back the rest of his drink as his mind went where it shouldn't have, closing his eyes momentarily as the beer shot down his throat.

The thing was that he'd always considered Daenerys beautiful, but in the sweeping way that was an undeniable fact. What he'd never done, was pay any particular attention to that consideration on a personal level until he began observe, on several occasions, the vague changes in her behaviour towards him that she tried to hide. 

He'd been in disbelief at first, not looking to read any meaning into any of it, but then his disbelief became curiosity. Maybe it was that his ego was being stroked that the most desirable woman on base fostered those inclinations towards him...maybe that's why the next time yet another soldier had gone on and on about _the Silver Queen_ , those words that he'd usually brushed off had stayed with him and the next time he saw her, he noticed things about her that he had no business noticing in any woman who was not his wife. The golden speckles in her eyes violet-blue eyes, the thickness of her hair, the way she laughed, her lips...

"...sometimes one needs to learn to retreat and re-evaluate the battle, one's enemy and one's potential gains and losses." Tywin's voice resonated in the background. 

The comparisons with Missandei hadn't come until much later: both women shared a lot in common, yet were so different and sometimes, he let his mind stray too closely to exploring those differences with just one person in mind. But he never forgot himself. Thoughts were just that: thoughts. They were like birds flying over a tree: they only perched if they found it comfortable enough to roost. 

He'd had the good fortune of finding a wife whom he cherished, one he would go any length for. Jon looked at his watch. It was just a little over late afternoon. They had both planned today as a lazy day off, but he'd been called into work so they'd had to postpone it till this evening. He smiled thinking of what Missandei might do when she saw the gift he got her. 

* * *

Today, Daenerys was celebrating the conclusion of the renovation of her house and he'd chosen to honour her invitation. After he'd grown aware of her attraction to him, to ease her guardedness around him, he'd stopped offering to help and had come up with different excuses whenever the opportunity presented itself. But it had been a while and truthfully, he missed talking to her. They had built this smooth flow of conversation and sometimes, he felt a certain level of resonance that came from the fact that she had become someone with whom he could discuss things ranging from work to the things unrelated to work. They were still friends, after all and it wasn't unheard of that attraction happened between friends. It was just a temporary state that would wither away if they didn't give it more importance than it was worth. 

He drove into the street to see familiar vehicles which belonged to the soldiers who had invested their time in seeing to the completion of her undertaking. The house itself was a sight to behold. Daenerys lived in one of the more opulent pockets of the city and each house in this quarter was uniquely built. She'd opted for a simple and classical design for the exterior of her house: bringing a piece of Essos to the heart of Westeros. 

He parked outside the house, and took a moment to admire the work done. Trees lining the either side of the pathway, neat finishings for the parts of the grounds that were not covered in grass, well manicured gardens. Beautiful, yet it didn't reveal much about the person that lived within. The interior was what bespoke who she was. 

When he'd made it to the door, a chime drifted across the other side of the door. _Motion sensors_. Soon afterwards, the door was opened and Mychel Redfort welcomed him with a salute. Today was a day for the young men. Just a small 'thank you' for all the work that they had done. The real celebration would take place on a later date that week. 

Jon walked through the hallway into a pervading mood of laughter and revelry. The open kitchen at the far end had her cooks, uniformedly dressed, going about their business. Everything was as pristine as he remembered and as he expected, the men were clustered around the massive TV with food or drinks in their hands. Needless to say, they were very comfortable. 

"Who was-- Jon." Daenerys stood still momentarily, but immediately continued walking down the stairs. "Welcome," she said with a smile that seemed too bright and quickly schooled her features to look more natural. "Thank you for coming." She sounded more at ease now. "I didn't think you'd make it."

Jon shrugged and smiled back at her. "I was one of the first people to know about this," he said, looking around, "so..."

"Come," she said, springing into action. "You should have something to eat." She walked into the kitchen, and he behind her. "Help yourself to anything," she told him. "Do we have much of the main course left?" she asked one of the cooks. "Your men eat like there's no tomorrow," she said to him fondly. 

Jon grinned. "It's all that brain work from playing cyvasse with you."

"They told you about that?" she said, glancing around him at the young soldiers who were enjoying themselves in the living area. "I see they learned the art of divulging things that should not be said from their commander."

"The art of sound leadership," he said in playful modesty. 

She smiled and this time, it reached her eyes. "Care to challenge me to a game."

"No, because you'll win. You heard what Tywin said in his address to the realm two months ago: ' _Sometimes one needs to learn to retreat and re-evaluate the battle, one's enemy and one's potential gains and losses_ '."

"Craven," she said, turning away and seeing to it that he was served. 

"Some would call it wisdom."

And just like that, they fell back into the old and familiar rhythm of the friendship they shared. For the next few hours, she showed him around and they spent the rest of the time interacting with the other soldiers, but the sun was going down and it was time for the younger soldiers to return back to base. They worked six out of seven days a week, but the sixth day had lighter work than usual which was spread across the whole day. There wasn't a lot left to be done, according to Gendry, but the work wasn't what could be shifted to the next day so when he left, all the others followed in succession. Then the house staff left and it was just both of them. 

It was the cusp of the evening and the heat of the sun had gone from hot to pleasantly warm. They'd moved to an open space that connected the living area to another courtyard and a veranda that overlooked Blackwater Bay. Daenerys sat adjacent to him and they ate the light canapes that were left over from what had been made.

"Isn't that your brother?" She picked up a remote and increased the volume of the TV. 

"...have it that Robb Stark, heir to Winterfell, might secede from the Seven Kingdoms with the backing off the Stormlands, the Vale..."

Jon took the remote from her and turned down the volume until it was muted. It was the same old thing he'd heard. Political savants debated this every day to the point that it had become white noise to him. 

Daenerys looked at him questioningly. "Is any of it true?"

"Don't believe everything you hear or see for that matter."

She regarded him for a time. "You don't like to talk about your family," she observed. "Whenever we're all together and it comes up, everyone says something about how they grew up. Everyone, but you."

He leaned back and relaxed against his chair. "There's nothing worthy of note to talk about."

"I'm not asking you to say anything," she said temperately. 

"I have nothing to hide," he said just as affably. "What do you want to know?"

"I really wasn't fishing to know anything. It was just an observation."

"Nonetheless. Ask away."

She took a moment. "Are you close? To them?" She pointed at the TV.

"Mmm... I mean... Robb and Arya are...," he smiled thinking of his sister in particular, "...I can't say I'm not if I factor in Robb and Arya. I was never around Bran and Rickon long enough to develop that relationship with them, but for the most part, they see me as their true brother. Sansa...," he trailed. 

"Not close."

"No," he shook his head. "I'm still protective as a brother would be, though."

She nodded in understanding. Sensing that he wasn't too keen on speaking about Catelyn, she asked. "What's Winterfell like?"

"Old." He laughed. "It's huge."

"As big as Harrenhal?"

"Nothing is as big as Harrenhal, but Winterfell is large. It's what you would expect of a castle. I didn't like staying in it much until Ashara came." He felt the sharp sting of her death as soon as he spoke of her.

"I'm sorry," Daenerys said. 

The look on her face showed she empathized with him. She'd lost her brother and her father suddenly, though they had died years apart. That understanding she shared pushed him to say what he hadn't planned on saying. "I still don't understand why. I can't get around to accepting that something must have been so bad that she decided living wasn't a good enough option anymore." It embarrassed him that he felt like the thirteen year old boy who had faulted himself for the incident. However, there was something about Daenerys’ company that made him comfortable enough to disclose what he purposely kept from speaking about with anyone else. 

When Jon laughed bitterly and turned his head away, he felt her palm on his hand. She placed it close to his wrist. "I'm sorry," she said again. "I can only imagine how painful that was for you."

He felt deeply saddened and let himself grieve for a few short moments, letting it flow through him before resorting to the strength he'd gained from that loss. 

Daenerys squeezed his arm comfortingly. Jon placed his other hand on hers to return the gesture, but didn't withdraw his hand immediately. He could tell when the air shifted, but acted oblivious. Not for long, however. Loosening his hold, but only lightly, he began to trace the back of her hand: trailing his thumb across the ridges of her folded fingers. When she didn't pull away, he looked up from their joined hands to see her watching him. 

She'd grown stiff, but there was nervous anticipation in her eyes. It was alluring to him how much darker they'd grown. His eyes lowered to her parted lips and stayed there. That curiosity he had she it came to her was present now and ventured into even more debarred territory. What would it feel like to kiss her? His eyes lowered even further down to her neck where her pulse was visibly slamming against her neck.

Whatever the answer was to his question, he wouldn't know: she withdrew her hand from his quickly and held it against her chest as if to protect it. Straight away, she stood and made for the kitchen.

"I made sure that I had some food packed for Missandei. She said she wouldn't have time to cook today." Daenerys carried on about the kitchen until she had everything ready and then took a piece of paper and folded it neatly into the basket she’d put the food in. "Those are the recipes for everything that was made today," she handed the basket to him, carefully so there was no skin contact. 

"I'll let her know," Jon said, falling back to the cordiality that had been before what had just happened. "Thank you." He took the basket from her.

She was good at concealing what she felt and had he not been well trained to pay magnified attention to detail, he may have been fooled. 

She saw him to the door and bid him good night, no differently than she did all the times that he'd been here before, but he felt her relief as he left.

On his way home, he couldn't stop imagining what it would be like to kiss Daenerys. Dissatisfied, he connected his phone to the speakers of his car and let the AI read aloud all the messages he'd been unable to read during the day. Soon, his mind was focused on important things to do at the base tomorrow. When he arrived home, he found Missandei waiting for him. He was happy to see her. The joy she brought him was ever present and that night when they lay naked together after he'd shown her just how much she meant to him, he felt that love that had only grown over time, but when she slept and he closed his, as he rubbed Missandei's shoulder gently, his thoughts were on another. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment. Thanks for reading.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey.

**DANY**  
  
  
Daenerys' phone rang and when she checked, she saw that she had a few missed calls from her friend. Her heart thudded nervously as she picked the call.  
  
  
"Hey, Missandei."  
  
  
"She finally picks up her call."  
  
  
"I'm sorry," Dany laughed. "I had some things that needed my immediate attention."  
  
  
"Dany, we're supposed to do things together today, just you and I. Have you forgetten?"  
  
  
She hadn't. She'd just hoped that her friends busy schedule would stand in the way of it because she had yet to sort through what was going through her head. "No," she answered. "I'm sorry I'm late."  
  
  
"Well... we both are," Missandei said, already laughing, "but that is besides the point. We both live in King's Landing, albeit thirty minutes from each other, but it doesn't mean we only get to see each other once a month. Sam and Gilly have a good reason for that, we don't."  
  
  
"You're right. How quickly can we rectify this?" Daenerys asked. They were supposed to meet at Street of the Sisters, but the traffic at this time was more than likely to pose a hindrance.  
  
  
"We could meet at the Dragonpit. I think I remember Jon saying that there's a play there later this evening. He wanted us to go see it."  
  
  
At the mention of Jon's name, Daenerys' heartbeat picked up speed. She didn't want to see him. To say that what had transpired that day surprised her would be an understatement. Since Harrenhal, she'd been struggling with unwanted feelings any time she thought of him or whenever she was around him, and she'd done all she knew to do to kill those feelings, or at the very least, hide them, but that evening, everything had come out in the open. Before then, she'd negated any suggestion in her head that she was drawn to him beyond the boundaries of what integrity allowed because accepting any such suggestion would make it all too real, but now there was no denying it. And from the looks of things, he'd known all along. She felt herself recoil internally just thinking about it.  
  
  
"Will he be there?" she asked as calmly as she could, hoping her voice gave nothing away. It felt like Missandei would see through her. If Jon could, then there was no telling who else could.  
  
  
"No. Strictly, you and I. We could do whatever you want. Do you want to come over?"  
  
  
 _No._ Daenerys thought. "The play sounds like it would be great," she said in deflection.  
  
  
"They're nothing like the ones you've seen at Braavos," Missandei warned in a bid to help her manage her expectations.  
  
  
"I'll have to see it to be the judge of it," Daenerys said, smiling. "What time is it?"  
  
  
"Nineteen hundred hours," Missandei said, mimicking Jon. "I'll speak with someone I know to get us the best passes. We'll meet there in an hour. I have to go now."  
  
  
"Alright. I'll pay for everything else we do tonight. See you there."  
  


* * *

  
"Are there any more questions?" she asked the soldiers who were seated in the auditorium. She scanned the room and sped past Jon. "None? That will be all, then. Thank you for your time."  
  
  
A chorus of people responding in kind filled the room as people stood to make for the different entrances. There were several throngs of people filing out, but several stayed back to make small talk. Daenerys greeted the familiar faces from Jon's unit and several from other units who had joined them today, some of whom had stopped to get her attention on something or the other.  
  
  
She was in discussion with Major Duncan Liddle when the man invited Jon over loudly. "Snow! Get over here, you bastard," he boomed jovially.  
  
  
"Ser," Jon said, walking towards them quickly with a smile on his face. He saluted the man briefly and nodded at Daenerys.  
  
  
"Stop with that nonsense. We're peers now," Major Liddle said.  
  
  
"I'm yet a Captain, ser," Jon said modestly.  
  
  
"Doing what Majors do. It's only a question of time. I was just speaking with our Silver Queen here--"  
  
  
"Daenerys," she corrected lightly. She'd just found out recently that it was one of the things people here referred to her as.  
  
  
"Your Grace," he bowed playfully, then looked around him. "Stannis might skin me alive for not conducting myself properly before a beautiful woman. You know, that's why he thinks all the soldiers here are ready to die for you if need be," he joked.  
  
  
Daenerys smiled obligatorily, but said nothing.  
  
  
"Daenerys," Jon acknowledged.  
  
  
"Captain," she inclined her head at him. It had been about six weeks since whatever it was that happened had happened. The first few weeks after that, she'd kept away from him without seeming too obvious about it, but after weeks of overthinking and being overly cautious, she'd begun to feel less tense about coming to work. As best she could that is. Whenever she had no choice and had to be around him, she always found herself searching for any indication that he even remembered that evening. He was hard to unriddle: before things had gotten that intimate, there'd been absolutely no sign from him that he saw her any differently than he always had. What changed? And when had it changed?  
  
  
"I was just telling our consultant here that she gives the best lectures."  
  
  
"She's good at what she does," Jon agreed, looking at her briefly and then back at the Major.  
  
  
The conversation centred around the Others and her predictions. When it drifted to the other things that both men had to do at work, she excused herself.  
  
  
"We'll walk with you to your office?" Major Liddle offered.  
  
  
"Thank you, Major, but that won't be necessary. I don't want to take up your time. It's a long walk to the Botanic Garden."  
  
  
The Major shook his head regrettably and asked, "You're walking there?"  
  
  
When she saw that his question might lead to them offering to walk her there, she said, "I was going to, but now that you ask, a drive there would be much quicker."  
  
  
He nodded. "You have a good day, Your Grace."  
  
  
"Major. Captain."  
  


* * *

  
Daenerys was deep into her work when she heard a knock on the door of the small building that had become a second office to her. When she lifted her head up, she saw Jon push the door open and walk in.  
  
  
It felt like her heart was caught in her throat.  
  
  
"May I join you?"

  
"Please," she gestured, and held her hands together to keep them still. A rush of questions were running through her mind and she couldn't get a hold of even one. "Was there... something you wanted to see me about?"  
  
  
"Dany, we're friends," he stated bluntly and shrugged. "We haven't really had the time to see each other like we used to. You missed the last meet we all had planned. I was recruited by Sam, Missandei, and Gilly to make sure to remind you that we have another in the forthcoming week," he finished with a friendly smile.  
  
  
"I won't miss the next one," she said, forcing herself into a feigned mood of friendliness.  
  
  
"I've missed talking with you," he said honestly and regarded her  
  
  
Daenerys furrowed her brows. Jon confused her. She opened her mouth to ask him if this was all there was to this sudden visit. She wanted to know what had been going through his mind that evening - what was going through his mind right now - but uncertainty kept her from saying anything.  
  
  
"I shouldn't have come here unannounced. I should leave you to your work, I--"  
  
  
"No, it's--it's fine." He was right. They _were_ friends. They'd moved on from observing formalities with each other a while ago and to regress to that would just make things more uncomfortable than they needed to be. "I could use another set of eyes in reviewing the forecasts before I send a final report."  
  
  
"I'd be happy to help. What do you need?" He moved to sit beside her on the spread piece of cloth.  
  
  
Though still on edge, she was able to maintain professionalism. It was easy to remember that he was a very easy person to work with. A sharp mind adept in high critical thinking. For the next hour, they assessed what she'd done and he used his experience to weigh in on some things that she hadn't considered.  
  
  
"I think this is good. With this, some of us might be deployed soon." He took a pause to read the summary of her calculations. "I hope we're able to defeat them for good. They were a threat no one really took seriously until it was too late."  
  
  
"There's been considerable push back from the Armed Forces at Wall. The Black Brothers."  
  
  
"I don't know how much longer our defenses will hold."  
  
  
"No one takes this as seriously as you do," she teased, feeling some of the effortlessness of their camaraderie slip back.  
  
  
He looked amused, but it didn't feel wholehearted. "They would if they ever faced what resides north of the Wall. There's no humanity in them," he said seriously, then a chuckle escaped him.  
  
  
His mirth evoked a smile from her. "What is it?"  
  
  
"The combat rations were terrible. We used to threaten to eat each other for survival."  
  
  
"They couldn't have been that bad."  
  
  
"They were worse."  
  
  
"Mm...I'm sure if given, I can survive on those."  
  
  
"Can you?" he asked in repartee.  
  
  
"You'd be surprised."  
  
  
He looked unimpressed.  
  
  
"I've eaten a horse's whole heart before." His look of disbelief made her laugh. "It's true."  
  
  
"Why?"  
  
  
"It's a Dothraki delicacy."  
  
  
"Ah." He nodded in understanding. "That sounds as unappetizing as I imagine it to be."  
  
  
"It's an acquired taste."  
  
  
"I'll take your word for it. Is there any other strange thing you've acquired a taste for?"  
  
  
"A prized delicacy in Meereen is a course of dog meat." She laughed out loud at the look of disgust on Jon's face. "You can't turn up your nose at what you've never tried. You don't know--"  
  
  
"I know that I hate it," he said, fighting back a grin. "What else have you eaten? Babies coated in honey?"  
  
  
"Yes," she answered, her laughter had settled into amusement. "I never had a taste for Meereenese choice foods," she shrugged a shoulder. "Don't you worry, the dogs and babies of King's Landing are safe."  
  
  
"Thank the old gods."  
  
  
The conversation mellowed out and they stared at each other, but Daenerys couldn't hold his gaze for much longer so she looked away.  
  
  
"You've given me much of your time," he said, getting to his feet. "I've done my part. Should we expect you in the next meet, Your Grace?"  
  
  
"Really, Jon. Your Grace? You as well?"  
  
  
His eyes twinkled. "It fits."  
  
  
She shook her head at him.  
  
  
"We should do this more often."  
  
  
Daenerys swallowed anxiously.  
  
  
"If that's alright with you," he added gently.  
  
  
Without looking at him, she moved her head slightly in agreement.  
  
  
"Have a good evening."  
  
  
"And you," she replied. As soon as he left she felt herself breathe. Daenerys pressed her thumb and her forefinger against her eyes. A beep from the cube which displayed the hologram cause her to lift her head and start packing her things. _I hope you know what you're doing, Daenerys._  
  
  
  
  
  
  
 **JON**  
  
  
Jon waited until just a few people were left in his building before he signed out from the office. Then he drove straight to the botanic garden. He knew Dany would be there waiting for him. It wasn't a daily occurrence, but since he proposed that they catch up more often, there were times where, without saying much, she'd give subtle hints of where she'd be. Whenever she did that, he would find her. All the times they met, all they did was talk. At first, Daenerys had been apprehensive any time they met, but when the only impression he'd given her was one of cordiality, she'd begun to be more herself around him. It was in this time that he'd gotten to see in more depth, what truly lay beneath the persona that many people thought to be arrogance. Beneath that was a very generous and emphatic person whose ambition was motivated by helping people. Once she considered anyone one of hers, she was loyal to death. None of these took away from the fact that she was also willing to make enemies of whomever if they stood in the way of her goals.  
  
  
He drove to a remote part of the extensive piece of land that was the formal garden and parked somewhere where his vehicle could not easily be seen. Daenerys' spot was even more discreet. He made it around thick bushes of spring flowers and tall trees until he was in front of a familiar door. He'd stopped knocking, but he always let her know that he was coming. Jon pushed the door open and same as it was the last time and several other times before, Daenerys was seated on the ground, on a large piece of cloth. Her devices were organized around her and away from the cloth lay an open satchel placed neatly with empty food bowls.  
  
  
Eagerness, unsureness, unease, and shyness. Everything he saw on her face was all in the space of a few seconds, but they were quickly masked away behind a confident smile. Jon moved in closer and glimpsed her neck quickly. The ever-present thud of her pulse beating against her neck was there. They weren't doing anything wrong. _Yet_ , his voice of reason told him.  
  
  
He smiled to keep his face from betraying what he was thinking at the moment. His wife, Missandei. A woman who irrefutably made his heart happy. Regardless, he'd chosen to liaise with another woman who made him feel traces of things that he didn't resist the need to explore and that notion was getting persistent over time.  
  
  
"You ate without me?" Jon asked, taking a seat on the stone bench close to her. He lifted the limp handle of the satchel and let it slip from his fingers.  
  
  
"Dog meat is not for everyone," she returned.  
  
  
"I prefer honey-coated babies, anyway," he shrugged. He always took pleasure in their the back-and-forths. "What are you doing?"  
  
  
"More of the same. I'm at the point where I want to throw this," she picked up the hologram cube, "so far away from me."  
  
  
"We're already working with what you've given so far," he said in encouragement. "There's word flying around that some units will be called to serve soon."  
  
  
"Do you think your unit will be called?" she asked, pushing back a loose lock of hair that the breeze from the trees was troubling.  
  
  
"I don't know." He shifted closer, but ensured to keep some space between them. "We're not deployed like other soldiers. Our time away could be anything from three weeks to three years."  
  
  
"How does that work? You being a special forces soldier, but also heading an ordinary unit...I don't know if ordinary is the right word to use..."  
  
  
"I understand. Hm...I was an _ordinary_ soldier first," he looked at her and they both smiled, "before I was trained into who I am now."  
  
  
"But you're different," she pointed at his hair and his beard.  
  
  
"If you take this appearance away, you can't tell who is special forces and who isn't because part of our training is to blend in anywhere."  
  
  
"Are you supposed to be telling me this? Isn't there a vow to not dishonour?"  
  
  
"You can find this information anywhere, Miss Stormborn."  
  
  
"Why did you join the Rangers?"  
  
  
"I was chosen."  
  
  
"Jon..."  
  
  
"No, really, I was. I could have refused, though."  
  
  
"Alright, why didn't you refuse."  
  
  
"Because I felt like I had something to prove."  
  
  
"To whom?"  
  
  
"Myself? House Stark? It's a thing of honour to fight for the North."  
  
  
"The North?" She raised a brow slightly. "Are you for or against secession, then?"  
  
  
"Neither. Our duties comprise serving the realms of men. Not politics." He didn't really like talking about the politics. It reminded him of how unhappy his father was. So rather than get into that, he answered her original question. "The Wall, for as long as it's been there has has had its ties to House Stark. When the Others first attacked, it was the Northern armies that went to help."  
  
  
"The North is more or less its own kingdom."  
  
  
"Dany..." It seemed the topic of secession was unavoidable so he gave in. "Alright. Yes, the North is more or less its own kingdom. It has its own laws, armies, religion...just about everything that's separate from the rest of the Seven Kingdoms."  
  
  
"Tywin can't be too happy about that."  
  
  
Jon shook his head slightly. "He's not, but he had to appease the North because about three more kingdoms were willing to go with the North if they had broken away from the Seven Kingdoms."  
  
  
"I thought you told me not to believe everything I hear."  
  
  
"You shouldn't...but I just... it's everywhere, I didn't want to hear any more dissection on the topic when I told you that. It's incessant."  
  
  
"Hm...," she said, her eyes looking at him with understanding. "It must be hard being caught in middle."  
  
  
"It's not without its bad days, but Benjen, my uncle, was a Ranger before me so he had a harder time of it."  
  
  
"Your family must have a tradition of their men joining the military. Isn't Robb a soldier in the Northern army?"  
  
  
"You're very curious about him."  
  
  
"About your family," she said.  
  
  
She looked like she meant to say she was curious about him, but it was more than likely that his ego was feeding him these assumptions.  
  
  
"Robb is a soldier turned politician. He was certainly fashioned to be the latter. At least the media seems to think so. He's Father's heir so he was groomed for that sort of thing: a war hero beloved by the North, the Riverlands, and the Vale." He sounded a little envious.  
  
  
"Do you want that? The adoration?" Daenerys asked, unsurprisingly perceptive. He'd always felt like the protector of their band of friends, but with her, he didn't feel the need to hide whatever weaknesses she saw.  
  
  
"No. Not always. Not as much as I used to when I discovered that I only wanted it because he had it. Celebrated war heroes are made for the public eye. But what we do, it leaves no room for that. There's no one to tell you well done or badly done. It's a mindly void." He offered her a wry look. "It's a thankless job, but I wouldn't trade it for the limelight. Or anything else."  
  
  
"Are you sure? You'd rather enjoy the comfort of anonymity than the joys of having a different woman's name attached to yours every other week? Margaery Tyrell, Jeyne Westerling... what's the other one?"  
  
  
"Talisa Maegyr?"  
  
  
"That's the one."  
  
  
Jon smirked. "I wasn't wallowing in self-pity, by the way."  
  
  
"I know." She smiled at him. "You should hear the way your men talk about you."  
  
  
He brushed it off. He hadn't been seeking for compliments, however, this was good to know. Even more, he was interested in hearing what she thought of him, but he didn't ask.  
  
  
Those eyes were so open with him now. So beautiful. _For fuck's sake_. When felt the sudden urge to place his fingers against the pulse against her neck, he knew it was time to leave.  
  
  
"You're leaving already?" she asked when he stood, not hiding the disappointment in her voice.  
  
  
"Missa--"  
  
  
"Oh-no-of course," she said quickly and then forced a smile at him. "I'm sorry for keeping you."  
  
  
She wasn't trying to guilt him, she truly meant it. Jon wished he had come up with something else as he watched her pay a great deal of attention to fastening the satchel shut. He wanted to kiss her so fucking badly and if he stayed any longer, he would.  
  
  
"Tomorrow?"  
  
  
Daenerys took a moment to respond, but did so and glanced away quickly. She was embarrassed.  
  
  
"Have a good evening."  
  
  
"You as well, Captain," she said, finally looking at him, but with resolve.   
  


* * *

  
He pictured all the different ways the evening could have ended with Daenerys without her resorting to the reserved woman he'd first met. The evening transitioned into night and he lay on the bed flipping through channels. Missandei turned off the lights and joined him in bed. He opened his arm and she curled her body against his side. Whatever she was going on her phone made her turn away so she could lay comfortably and still be able to use it without straining her neck. She sat up beside him sat cross legged, stretching to get her razor-thin computer and giggling at her phone screen at the same time. She tapped his arm without looking at him. "Jon, check your messages."  
  
  
The group chat was ablaze with an influx of messages coming in at rapid speeds. Everyone was typing something. Jon, caught up with everything now, was finding amusement in the stories and the pictures Gilly was sending of the baby and Little Sam. On and on the exchanges went throughout the night until they began to die down slowly.  
  
  
A notification flashed across his screen and he saw that Daenerys had changed the group name from what Sam had put there. Sam termed the group chat 'The Sad Story Brigade,' because all except Missandei had some tragic backstory or the other.  
  
  
  
 _**Jon** : hey _  
  
He typed a private message to her and waited. He could see that she was typing and it went on for a while before her reply came:  
  
 _**Dany:** Captain. _

She was typing again and he waited. Almost immediately, another message came:  
  
 _**Dany:** How's Missandei? _  
  
_**Jon:** Falling asleep. Give me a moment. _  
  
He got up from the bed and walked barefooted to the balcony attached to their room. Without an upwards glance Jon knew it was a cloudy night.   
  
_**Jon:** Are you still there? _  
  
She was because it showed that she had read his message but was yet to respond. After a while, he accepted that she wouldn't respond to him . As he was about to return back inside, he got a notification.  
  
 _**Dany:** I am. But I should get some sleep now. There's a mountain of work that awaits me tomorrow. _  
  
Jon rested his hip against the balustrade and typed.  
  
 _**Jon:** Will I see you tomorrow? _  
  
For five minutes, it showed that she was typing. Eventually her reply came.  
  
 _**Dany:** Yes. _  
  
_**Jon:** Good night, Daenerys. _  
  
_**Dany:** Good night. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked this. Please leave a comment.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone. This was supposed to come out last Tuesday, but at the time I wanted to edit and post, there was an execution of unarmed protesters in my country and I wasn't in the frame of mind to post an update. Worst experience of my life. To all those who responded to the distress call I posted, I'm very thankful. Flew in from the UK back home yesterday. Don't worry about me. I'm safe. I'll keep posting updates. Can't let evil people disrupt the normalcy in our lives, but we will keep fighting the good fight.
> 
> Hope you like this chapter.

**DAENERYS**

  
Daenerys' eye darted to the corner of her screen as she replied the messages that she'd not had time to respond to earlier. Then she checked her watch to be sure the time was right. It was unlike him not be here by this time.  
  
  
She'd seen him earlier during work hours, but she wanted to see him again. Alone. She could feel her heart stir. _This is wrong,_ she whispered to herself. _This is..._  
  
  
"Dany?" she heard Jon call from a distance away.  
  
  
Her heart thrashed about her chest and she had to breathe in deeply to keep her composure. All thoughts of guilt and goodwill were pushed away, replaced by keenness. It hadn't even been two days since they'd met like this and she'd missed him so much.  
  
  
"Daenerys," he said when he pushed open the door covered in clematis and stopped to smile at her.  
  
  
She didn't know what other way to describe her present state beyond the fact that she felt. He made her feel. "Jon."  
  
  
He took a seat on the bench across from her. The scent of his perfume stood apart from the scent of the spring flowers that surrounded them. His black hair was tied in it's usual knot to keep away from his face.  
  
  
"I bought a lemon tree," she said immediately.  
  
  
Jon chuckled. "Why am I not surprised?"  
  
  
There was something almost childlike about how she wanted to share things with him. Daenerys found herself looking forward to these times with him. They were becoming the best part of working at the base. She moved to show him a few pictures and he nodded interestedly.  
  
  
Their heads were so close to each other and when he turned his head to look at her, she faltered. Her thumb hovered above her phone screen for a few seconds before she continued scrolling. When she'd exhausted the pictures of her lemon tree, she moved away from him and sat back down where she'd been.  
  
  
"So, when do we get invited to eat what your cook makes with the lemons?" he asked.  
  
  
This was something she didn't understand about him. Apart from the day in her house when he'd spoken about Ashara, Jon had never shown any physical signs that he saw beyond how he presented himself. As a friend. Something she was thankful for... But there were times she'd seen him look at her as...as more. Or maybe it was all in her head. It had to be. Maybe she was reading so much into everything because the only person she could tell anything about any of this was herself.  
  
  
"I'll let you know," she said, trying her best to sound as unaffected as he did. Daenerys fought the instinct to withdraw into herself, but that feeling didn't even last because he began to tell her about his day. The mundane things that made her get to know him better. She'd come to see that his heart for people was what made him such a great leader and how his relationships with different members of his family still played a hand in certain motivations he had.  
  
  
The one thing she was sure of was that they both liked each other's company. Sometimes, they talked for hours and other times, they didn't have to say anything at all. Silence and familiarity were enough.  
  
  
She listened attentively and only interjected a few times to get clarity or to tease.  
  
  
"What are you working on?" he asked suddenly.  
  
  
She looked up from typing. "Replying messages. There are so many of them."  
  
  
"Any one from your beneficiary who is getting released from his sentence today?"  
  
  
Her eyes widened in surprise. "You remembered."  
  
  
"Why wouldn't I?" He shrugged casually. "Mossador," he stated to let her know he'd been paying attention when she'd mentioned it. "Has he been released yet?"  
  
  
Daenerys stopped typing, warmed by the fact that he hadn't forgotten. It was the little things like this that influenced how she saw him. "Later today. The laws there make it so that it would be very difficult to fit back into the society, so there's an arrangement for him to return to Naath."  
  
  
"He's better off there. There's nothing like being amongst people who accept you for you."  
  
  
Did he know that she was a Targaryen? At times, she wondered. Was that look knowing or was it something else? Daenerys looked away from him and replied another message. Her skin felt tight.  
  
  
"Have you ever been to Naath?" he asked.  
  
  
She looked up again. "Once. It's so beautiful there. White sand beaches, clear blue sky, beautiful people. Like Missandei." She said that to help herself: to keep her mind grounded in reality. Daenerys had seen Jon with Missandei so many times. He loved his wife devotedly.  
  
  
"We'll go there sometime in the future. Our plans keep being postponed. She says it's like Summer and Spring at the same time."  
  
  
"I don't know what Summer is like here. In Meereen, the sun shines and rain falls."  
  
  
Jon made an amused sound. "It's not that different here."  
  
  
"It is. There's a crispiness to the air that Meereen doesn't have. Qarth, perhaps."  
  
  
"You've been to a lot of places," he noted admiringly. "I've never left the shores of this continent."  
  
  
"No?" she asked. He was seasoned and astute which were reason enough to believe that he was well traveled.  
  
  
"That surprises you?"  
  
  
"It does."  
  
  
"Just Westeros for me."  
  
  
"How many regions in the Seven Kingdoms have you visited?"  
  
  
"All seven of them in addition to the Crownlands and the Iron Islands."  
  
  
"The best of them?"  
  
  
"The North."  
  
  
She shook her head at that. "You're biased. No one, but northernmen speak highly of the North."  
  
  
"It's because everyone else is gutless and can't appreciate the cold."  
  
  
She enjoyed when they got like this. Her overthinking normally took long pauses when the mood between them became playful.  
  
  
"If everyone, but you, is wrong, then you're wrong."  
  
  
"There's always an exception. The North is unmatched."  
  
  
"I'll have to visit one day."  
  
  
"Do you mean that? Let me know if or when you're ready to."  
  
  
"I will, but first, the experience of Summer. There's so much talk about it."  
  
  
"It's because of the festivals that celebrate the end of Spring across the Seven Kingdoms. Every region celebrates theirs uniquely which reminds me: some of the men won't be able to return back to their families for the festivities and I've been pushing them harder than I usually do. I'd like to reward them with something in way that coincides with that period. To boost morale. Any ideas?"  
  
  
They brainstormed quickly and concluded on going to Dragonstone for that day and Jon insisted that she join them. Her level of anticipation was so high - it would be her first time on the island - but she kept from showing any signs that would betray her thoughts.  
  
  
The conversation quickly switched to work and they bounced ideas off each other. It was easy to see why Jon had come as far as he had so quickly. His insight in battle planning was very ingenious.  
  
  
The streetlights came on, illuminating everywhere around them. She hadn't even noticed how much time had gone. It was time to leave, she thought regretfully. Daenerys began to pack her things and Jon helped her.  
  
  
They made to where she parked her car, taking the longer route there. The path was wide and open, sloping gently down to the lake. A copse of cypress pines flanked them on one side, with a grove of peaceful beeches standing guard on the other. Apple trees ran through the centre of the garden, casting a lake of claw shadows onto the grass. Breeze rustled their branches, causing leaves to drift to the ground silently and carelessly.  
  
  
Neither she nor Jon said anything as they took their time to get to where they were going. They got there eventually and stayed in place longer than necessary because of the reluctance to leave.  
  
  
"It's getting dark," she glimpsed the sky and drew her eyes back to him.  
  
  
"It is," he said. "Who's seeing you home?"  
  
  
"Alyn Ambrose. It's his ' _shift'_ according to him. I'll drive to the base and let him know I'm ready."  
  
  
Jon seemed satisfied with that answer. "Tomorrow?"  
  
  
"The day after," she said. "Full day tomorrow."  
  
  
He nodded, then his eyes lowered and he inched forward, before backing away from her. "Until then," he said, his eyes roaming her face.  
  
  
When he left, her hands quivered and she balled them into fists, not minding the pain from her keys digging into her palm, until they were still. _Missandei,_ she reminded herself. Over and over and over again.  
  


* * *

  
"Just one more. I won't tell your mother if you won't tell," Daenerys promised Little Sam as she handed him a piece of cake.  
  
  
He grabbed it from her and ate it quickly, then extended his hand for more. Daenerys whispered, "I'll let you have some later. If we eat any more, she'll know."  
  
  
The disappointment on his face drew a chuckle from her, but she didn't give in.  
  
  
Today, Gilly had asked that she help look after Little Sam because she had to see a maester - a title doctors in Westeros were sometimes referred to as. The baby needed a check-up and Sam had to be at work. Daenerys had begun it all by picking up Little Sam from his nursery and then taking him to his favourite place. Done with that, they drove to Sam and Gilly's home where they'd engaged in every activity he wanted. Currently, she was trying to get him to fall asleep, but he obviously had something different in mind. It was why she was feeding him with as many sweet things as possible. So he'd enervate and give in to sleep.  
  
  
Two hours from now, she had to meet with a potential investor that had travelled all the way from Norvos to meet with her. The arrangement was such that Jon and Missandei would take over from her in an hour and be with Little Sam until either of his parents returned home.  
  
  
Surely enough, the sweet foods worked their wonder and his excessive activities wore him out. She lifted him from the floor and was carrying him to his room when her phone buzzed.  
  
  
  
 _ **Jon** : I'm almost there._  
  
  
That fluttering sensation in her chest that had become so familiar anytime Jon was involved made itself known.  
  
  
In five minutes, there was a knock on the door and she opened it to see him adjusting the collar to his formal wear. She very deliberately took her eyes off him. Jon acknowledged her with the incline of his head and walked in when she moved aside. The smell of his perfume was heady and filled the entire space the further in be walked.  
  
  
"Where's that terrorist?" he asked looking around and up at the stairs.  
  
  
"Asleep," she said and shut the door. "Missandei's supposed to be here with you."  
  
  
"Was. She wants to surprise me with what she'll wear. How do I look?"  
  
  
Daenerys wasn't sure what to say. Discipline kept her from gazing at him as much as she wanted to. "Good." She settled for the safest answer.  
  
  
"Do you like it?" he asked.  
  
  
Her eyes snapped to his and he held her stare. "Y-Yes."  
  
  
"Good," he said in a low tone.  
  
  
She felt pinned to where she stood.  
  
  
"You weren't at the garden yesterday," he noted, looking at his wrists to adjust the cuffs of his shirt, "nor the day before. Are you tired of me already?" He regarded her again and though his expression was cheerful, his eyes and his tone held an underlying seriousness.  
  
  
"No," she said quickly, shaking her head to assure him. "It's... it's not that at all." Why did she feel so unsure of herself?  
  
  
"Alright," he replied, seemingly abated. "I'll help myself to something," he said, moving towards the kitchen. "Do you want anything?"  
  
  
"No, thank you. I have to leave now so I'm not late to my meeting," Daenerys said when his back was turned.  
  
  
"Are you sure you don't want anything? I'm not the worst cook," he said lightly.  
  
  
"Another time," she answered. She proceeded to tell him all he needed to know to relay to Gilly and then left as quickly as she could.

* * *

Tired from typing, Daenerys stretched her arms and flexed her fingers. She moved the keyboard away from her lap and placed the hologram cube beside it. Away from her, Jon lay facing up. His hands were crossed behind his head and his legs at the ankles. His chest rose and fell silently and she moved quietly in order not to disturb his nap.  
  
  
He'd come to their quiet place at the start of his lunch hour and had lain down immediately, explaining to her that he needed a quick rest to revitalize himself, and dozing off shortly after.  
  
  
Daenerys took the rare opportunity to study him without interruption or caution. His hair was free and loose about his face. It was rich in texture and dark. A smile crept into her face when she remembered the day she got to know his one vanity was his hair. She still teased him about it sometimes.  
  
  
Daenerys drew her knees to her chest, rested her arms on them and curling her toes. The air was so cool and pleasant that she wanted to be here all day. Without warning, she felt a pang at the memory of spending a day like this with Willem Darry. One time they'd met here, she'd opened up to Jon about what effects his death and Viserys' had on her and he'd confided more about Ashara. Taking everything else away, Jon was easily one of the people she'd ever been the most comfortable with and these days, her first confidant... "Fuck," she whispered softly and sat up straight when it dawned on her. She loved him. _When...?_  
  
  
 _No,_ she shook her head. The only thing she could think of next was Missandei. As much as she tried to downplay it in that moment, she knew she was only lying to herself. The guilt that followed made her want to cover her face. There was no one she was more fiercely protective of than Missandei, yet here she was treading deeper in something that played her friend false: something she had absolutely no right to.  
  
  
Daenerys reached a hand to pluck the flower petal that had landed on Jon's hair, but withdrew her hand. Instead she shook him awake earlier than she was supposed to and persuaded him to leave, making sure to evade the question of the next time they'd see each other like this.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this. Would love to hear your thoughts.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise. New chapter. Enjoy.

**DAENERYS**  
  
  
When the clouds parted and the island became visible below, Daenerys sat at the edge of her seat. Below her was the island of Dragonstone. The closer they got, the more defined the structures on the ground became and amidst them stood the great castle of Dragonstone. She leaned over and looked down, barely aware of anything but the sight before her. When the helicopter landed and it was safe to disembark, an attendant held the door open for her.  
  
  
There was something so time-honoured and familiar about being on this island. Across the grass was a car waiting for her with a private guide who would give her access to parts of the island and the castle that others couldn't have access to. Today marked the last day of Spring and she'd come ahead of Jon's unit to experience this by herself. _And to avoid Jon_ , her conscience told her, but she pushed the thought away.  
  
  
Right now, all she wanted was to walk the grounds that those from whom she was descended had walked. The automatic door to the backseat slid open and she got in. After an exchange of pleasantries with the guide, the tour began.

A few times, she caught the driver looking at her through the mirror. She knew it was because of her Valyrian features. Or maybe she reminded him of someone. Her mother, perhaps?

"You look like a dragonseed of old."

"My mother was from Lys."

He nodded and smiled at her.

  
When the guide began his rehearsed speech of the sights and histories of the place, she interrupted him. "Alester, is it?"  
  
  
"Yes, Miss Storm--"  
  
  
"Daenerys."  
  
  
"Yes, Daenerys."  
  
  
"May I ask a favour?"  
  
  
"Of course, Miss Stor--Daenerys."  
  
  
"How long have you worked here?"  
  
  
"Ten years, but I've lived here my whole life."  
  
  
"You have?" she asked.  
  
  
"Yes."  
  
  
"Then please tell me of the home you know and not what you were told to recite to tourists," she requested kindly. "The good, the bad... everything."  
  
  
She could see him relax and begin to tell his story. Daenerys felt the joys of the good times that the islanders had seen with House Targaryen: how there had been overt abundance and peace. She felt the pain of defeat when he spoke of the dark times the island faced after the Targaryens and their loyalists in high places were torn down. There was fear and uncertainty when be spoke of the future, but neither took anything away from the sense of pride he felt being an indigene of Dragonstone. Even now, despite it all, the islanders didn't see themselves as a part of the Seven Kingdoms. There was bitterness towards the Great Houses of the realm, especially towards the Lannisters and the Starks. One of Tywin's brothers had been appointed to oversee the affairs of the Island, but thankfully, the castle was left untouched: preserved until Tywin determined what would be done with it.  
  
  
All through the ride and after it, as Alester showed her the fishing village and the beach, she paid intent attention to all he said and all she saw. Beyond the bright decorations that coloured the streets and buildings in preparation for the celebrations, she noticed the old monuments especially. Nothing that depicted the island's dragon heritage was left standing. Decapitated dragon statues and those of the Targaryen overlords save Aegon the Conqueror littered the island. The sigils of House Targaryen were either vandalized or half destroyed in ways that felt intentional. When the time came to enter into the castle, her zeal to learn more was bridled only by tenseness. Alester took a lesser known entrance into the throne room and she followed. Nothing could have prepared her for the deep sorrow she felt at being in a place she was sure all the Targaryens before her had been in and it hit her then: _I'm the last of them,_ she thought.  
  
  
A beacon of light pierced through the panes of glass, bathing the stone floor in a crisscross of iridescent colour.  
  
  
Daenerys took purposeful steps to the massive throne illuminated by great shafts of light wherein dust particles danced. She climbed the steps and stood to stare at the throne in front of her, thereafter, she trailed the arm of the seat and curled her fingers against the stone when her hand reached the headrest of the throne.  
  
  
"Miss Stormborn," Alester's voice echoed. "Are you alright?"  
  
  
Daenerys didn't answer immediately, but took a deep breath and turned around with a forced smile. "I am." She tapped the throne with her fingers and made it down the steps. The decision to come here alone had been because she wanted some kind of closure concerning this part of her. What she'd gotten instead was anger and melancholy. It was strange that she felt so strongly about events that had happened before she was even born. Events that she might have gone her whole life without knowing.  
  
  
"The island opens to tourists in three hours. Until then, this is all yours if you want to remain here a little longer. "  
  
  
"No, that's alright. Let's see other parts of the castle until my access here becomes null."  
  
  
"By all means."  
  


* * *

  
Towards the end of her tour, she received a message from Jon informing her that he and his men were about to board their flight and would land in less than thirty minutes. It was all she could do not to cancel on him. She didn't want to see Jon, but at the same time, she couldn't wait to see him. It made no sense.  
  
  
Daenerys acknowledged his message. She hadn't told Jon she was coming here on her own in order not to stir any suspicions he'd ever had about her. He'd assumed she'd be running late because of work or a meeting and she hadn't corrected him. The plan was to meet on the beach close to the dragonglass cave and make it around the island.  
  
  
When she was sure enough time had passed, she headed for the beach alone - declining Alester's offers to be her guide for the rest of the day after paying him a lot more generously than his original price.  
  
  
The sea was like a rippling blanket of bright blue. The horizon was edged with a silver tint and a cormorant was flying into that place where sun and water met. Its wings were a blur of motion and it soon faded from sight.  
  
  
Jon and the rest were very easy to spot on the beach. They were all dressed in casual wear and several of them held bottles of drinks ranging from water to differnt typrs of alcohol.  
  
  
Olly cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, "MISS STORMBORN!!!" A slap to the back of his head made him turn around and rub his head, but the warning look Mychel Redfort gave him made him think twice about retaliating.  
  
  
"Are you...is he drunk already?" Daenerys asked Jon when she was close enough to be heard, praying to every god there was that she didn't give anything away.  
  
  
"Last day of Spring," Jon said in explanation as his eyes danced merrily and sidestepped a seaweed a wave had washed on the shore. "The next spring might not come for another forty years."  
  
  
She smiled, but quickly turned away from him to greet all the others who had come.  
  
  
"Or we might die before then," Gendry said which some of the soldiers agreed with. "Afternoon, Miss Stormborn."  
  
  
"It's good to see everyone away from work. What are we doing today, Captain?" she asked when she could no longer avoid facing him. He wore a plain white shirt over light blue denim trousers and simple white shoes. He'd let his hair loose. Daenerys' hands were itching to feel the texture of those curls.  
  
  
"I had a lot planned for the collective," he said, "but everyone has their own plans."  
  
  
The younger men looked eager to be on their own, but had to compromise for Jon, they would all see the procession in the village and afterwards, everyone else was free to do as they pleased for the next eight hours. With all in agreement, they left the beach and made it just in time for the procession.  
  
  
A riot of colours, loud music, a stream of wine, and an endless supply of food filled the streets as people jubilated. While that was going on and everyone she'd come with was becoming more engrossed in the festivities, Daenerys slipped away to a quieter place on the island. She wandered about until she found herself drawn back to the castle.  
  
  
It was closed off by this time, but she bought her way through and took a stroll on the walkway to the castle. There were a few other people who were up to one thing or the other. She walked around until she noticed that nighttime was fast approaching. They had about two more hours to be on the island before they all went back to the mainland. A sharp beam of light shot into the sky and distant cheers with it. Fatigued, she looked around for a bench and sat when she found one. With this much free time, she tried to get in a little work done.  
  
  
Her phone rang silently, interrupting what she was doing. It was Jon. Daenerys placed one hand against her heart as if that would do anything to help slow it down. A moment later, it stopped ringing and then a second call came. Closing her eyes, she picked up the call.  
  
  
"Jon?"  
  
  
"Dany," he said. In the background, she could hear the loudness of what was happening wherever he was. "Where are you?...Dany?"  
  
  
"The castle."  
  
  
"Isn't it closed? Where in the castle?"  
  
  
"It is, but if you're persuasive enough--"  
  
  
"Send me your coordinates. I'll meet you there soon."  
  
  
He ended the call and she did as he asked. Daenerys blew out a breath and tried to concentrate on working, but there were a thousand things on her mind at once and most of them had to do with Jon.  
  
  
"You're missing out on the festivities," she heard him say, startling her.  
  
  
It had taken him roughly fifteen minutes to get here. Jon joined her on the bench and Daenerys shifted away from him to spread the distance between them.  
  
  
Slinging an arm across the bench, he turned so he could face her fully. "Why are you here alone?" he asked, taking a sip of water from the bottle he was holding. She'd never seen him look so carefree: it probably had to do with the smell of strong drink she could perceive that was mingled with the scent of his perfume.  
  
  
Daenerys shrugged. "I didn't want the day to end without doing something productive," she answered, staring at the open rather than facing him.  
  
  
"Spring comes once in a lifetime for many people and for most of the known world, not at all. Taking a day off work today is not a crime," he said and then paused. "Are you alright? You've been... different today."  
  
  
Daenerys brightened forcibly, "I am, thank you for asking." He lifted his bottle of water in cheers and took another sip from it. "It's just work, really," she tried to explain. Not wanting the mood to become strained, she asked lightly, "If today is that important, why didn't you spend it with family?"  
  
  
"With Missandei? She's not particular about the festivities. With the Starks, they're all at Riverrun and I've never felt welcomed there."  
  
  
"Oh..."  
  
  
"The most important reason of all, my men needed this. The ones who couldn't afford to go home and the ones who don't have families to go to."  
  
  
This was something she loved about him. Jon took people's interests to heart.  
  
  
"If you were anywhere else but here, what would you have been doing?" he asked.  
  
  
"Working?" She smiled wryly when he laughed.  
  
  
Afar, the warming, orange glow of streetlamps seemed to grow brighter. She tilted her head skyward saw the quarter-moon against the black canvas of the night.  
  
  
From the corner of her eye, she saw him look upward and close his eyes. "When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies but the pack survives."  
  
  
Daenerys cast a glance at him. "That's beautiful."  
  
  
Jon opened his eyes and glimpsed at her with his lips upturned. "It's something my father used to say when I was younger. Have you ever seen snow?"  
  
  
He knew she hadn't, but she replied him anyway, "No."  
  
  
"It's so cold...and white. Silver in the moonlight. Sometimes, your hair reminds me of snow." Daenerys sat very still when he extended his hand and lifted her braid, rubbing her hair between his fingers. "It's so soft and long...," he trailed off.  
  
  
 _He's drunk_ , she told herself, but didn't have the power to move away.  
  
  
Jon dropped her braid and reached up to thumb her cheek. "You're so beautiful," he murmured.  
  
  
Daenerys opened her mouth to say something, but she couldn't think of anything to say.  
  
  
Immediately, he let go of her face and ran his hand through his hair. "Fuck." He blew out a breath.  
  
  
Without thinking, Daenerys leaned forward and kissed him. She regretted it instantly. Her lips were still pressed against Jon's who seemed shocked for a split second and then slid out his tongue to pry open her lips. When he moved closer to her and held her head, she jerked away and stood, desperately wishing she could erase the kiss. "Good night," she said and walked away abruptly.  
  
  
"Dany, wait!" he called and jogged after her. "Please wait," he held her arm and then let go. "We're all supposed to leave together. How--"  
  
  
"I'll leave the same way I came," Daenerys said without looking at him. She just wanted to go to her house and never leave it.  
  
  
"Dany..."  
  
  
"Good night, Jon."  
  
  
From the drive to the airfield to the ride back to King's Landing, in her head, it was a war between the memory of the kiss and the self-accusation for betraying Missandei.  
  
  
  
  
  
 **JON**  
  
  
"Tell him I'll be there in an hour to look at his findings...no, I can't...," Missandei sighed. "Alright, forty-five minutes. I'm only doing this because you asked." Her hands worked quickly as she packed two separate light lunches. "Don't mention it. Bye." She tapped her ear piece, ending the call. "The Grand Maester thinks I work for him," she said, annoyed.  
  
  
"He's still trying to recruit you to work for the Lannisters?"  
  
  
"He's wasting his time," she said and handed him the satchel she usually put the food in. "For you and Daenerys," she said and kissed his cheek. "It's been a while since I've done this. I'll see in the evening," she hung back and kissed him properly. "I love you."  
  
  
"I love you too," Jon said and kissed her forehead. "Ruin his day."  
  
  
"Always."  
  
  
When she left, he went upstairs to prepare for work. All the while, his mind was on Daenerys. His inhibitions might have been loose that night, but he'd been very aware of what he'd beem doing and he remembered it vividly: all the details of it, especially how she tasted and the softness of her lips.  
  
  
Jon remembered the day he determined that if he ever crossed any line with her, it would be because it was something she wanted and not what he cajoled her to do. He wanted her to want him as much as he wanted her, but he truthfully, he hadn't thought it would ever happen.  
  
  
The waterfall showerhead rained a sharp jet of water on him and he washed quickly. He reached for a towel and dried himself, dashing to the bedroom he shared with Missandei to dress himself in the uniform he'd laid out on the bed.   
  
  
When he was done, he took his phone from the dresser and sent a message to Daenerys. As he expected, she read it, but didn't reply. He picked up his keys and headed for his vehicle, making sure all security locks were in place. One last check on the automated system and he left.  
  
  
During a traffic stop, he called her. It rang thrice. No response. It was nearing the end of the second week since the kiss. He knew that he wouldn't see her at work - unless they had no choice but to be in the same room - nor would he see her at the gardens or any of the usual places she was sure to be found.  
  
  
As soon as he arrived the base, he went to her office.  
  
  
"She hasn't resumed yet, ser," said the young girl who administered Daenerys' affairs in the office.  
  
  
"This is for her," he passed Missandei's package to the girl.  
  
  
"I'll let her know as soon as she resumes."  
  
  
"Thank you."  
  
  
"Ser." The girl saluted sharply.  
  
  
For her sake, he'd tried to downplay the kiss, but it was a fruitless endeavour. For the rest of the day, all activities went on as usual and by fluke, he overheard a conversation between two soldiers who had grown close to Dany, one of whom was going to escort her home today. From what he gathered, she'd finish from a meeting a little later than her closing hours and knowing Daenerys, she would dismiss all those who worked under her before the closing time.  
  
  
When he felt the time was right, he went to her office again.  
  
  
He knocked once and pushed the door open before anyone could even invite him in. Her office was a private partition apart from the general space that had been given to her workforce.  
  
  
True to his assumption, it was empty. Jon walked past all the desks, boards, and monitors, and pushed open the door that led to her own private work area. She was getting ready to leave. As soon as she saw him, she straightened with a look of surprise on her face.  
  
  
"What are you doing here?" she asked, knitting her eyebrows and suddenly busying herself with the devices on her desk.  
  
  
Deliberately, he clicked the door shut and took out his key card to make sure that it was locked. Once it beeped red, he turned back to her. "How long will you keep avoiding me?"  
  
  
"I'm not." When she looked at him, Jon could see the panic set in there. Instinctively, his eyes went to her neck and then her face again.  
  
  
"We kissed," Jon said, cutting right to it.  
  
  
"No...I mean, yes, but it was a mistake and I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have. I don't know what I was thinking. You were drunk--"  
  
  
"I wasn't drunk. Did I have a little more than usual to drink? Yes, but if I was lucid enough to drive to the airport, then I was definitely not pushed to do what I hadn't wanted to do for a very long time."  
  
  
The honesty of his words stopped her from saying anything. Before he lost the moment, he covered the distance between them and kissed her. It was everything he remembered and more. She didn't stand still for long: her arms came around him. Jon held her face and pushed it back so he could delve his tongue deeper into her mouth. At the moment, he didn't really care to think if this was wrong, but the thought of his wife needled him until he broke the kiss. Daenerys hid her face in his chest when his arms circled her and they both stood there breathing heavily.  
  
  
"This is a mistake," she said almost inaudibly, but he pretended not to hear her. She let go of him and pushed away from his body until he released her. She avoided eye contact as she went back to readying herself to leave. When she was done, she went straight to the door, but her key card wouldn't open it.  
  
  
"Please open the door," she said without looking at him.  
  
  
Jon handed her the key card instead. Done, she returned it and turned back around.  
  
  
"I'll be at the garden every day by this time until you decide you don't want to run away from me any longer," Jon said. Her silence said what she couldn't say. If she didn't want to be there, she would have protested. He waited and when she didn't say anything, he said, "I want us to see each other tomorrow. Is that possible?"  
  
  
After a slight nod, she left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think.


	9. Chapter 9

**JON**

The door creaked open and Daenerys stopped to smile tentatively at him. His own smile was broad when he stood. She'd styled her hair in elaborate braids and was dressed in simple, but high-end clothing. He watched as she placed the things she brought in a neat and orderly manner and when she was done, he held her wrist and tugged her towards him.

"You're late," he said to Daenerys, drawing her against himself. Since the start of... this, he'd been pulled in more and more and it took a lot of self control to not move at a pace faster than she was ready for.

"I ran into a few people," she said. there was just a little glow on her cheeks, but she was getting better at holding his stare. It had taken some time for her to become this comfortable.

Jon raised her arms and placed them around his neck. "How was your day?"

"Not the best I've had," she said, wrapping a curl of his hair around her finger.

"What happened?" Jon rubbed her arms slowly.

"Who happened, you mean. Stannis. You'd think I'm the cause of all his problems."

"If there's anyone who can withstand him at his worst, it's you. He just wants you out. Don't give him the satisfaction."

"You're taking my side against another soldier?" she asked wittily.

"Shh...don't tell anyone."

"How about you? How was yours?"

He shrugged and pulled her even closer. "Monotonous." Jon bent his head and dragged his lips from her temple to her ear. When she let out a soft sound, he trailed down to the side of her neck. "You smell so good," he murmured against her neck and raised his head to join his lips with hers. She opened her mouth when he pressed his tongue at the seam of her lips. Daenerys moaned when his hands moved to her waist and he drew her even closer against his stiffening erection. Expecting her to push away, he broke the kiss and waited. When that didn't happen, he kissed her again. Unhurriedly and sensually, he skimmed her sides and her back with his hands before drawing back. Both of them were short-winded. Jon felt her breath against his neck and lifted his head only to lock eyes with Gendry through the crack in the door. It was enough to rein in his libido.

_Shit,_ Jon thought when the other man jerked away,though he remained as he was to keep Daenerys oblivious. If she knew, she'd be distressed. After a length of time, he gently untangled her hands from his neck. One last time, he brushed his lips against hers and stepped away from her.

"I still have a little bit of supervision to do." He ran the back of his hand down her cheek. "And you have a terrorist organisation to track. I shouldn't keep you from saving lives."

She pulled her lower lip, still wet from the kisses, between her teeth and nodded.

"Let me know when you get home."

"I will," she breathed out.

* * *

Jon's concentration on his screen was interrupted by a knock on his door. "Come in," he said without looking up.

"Ser," Gendry saluted.

Jon sat back against his chair. "At ease." This wasn't a conversation he wanted to have, but he needed to clear the air. "What you saw, Sergeant--"

"Is not my business," Gendry said, shaking his head and quickly added, "Pardon me, ser. I didn't mean to cut you off."

Jon brushed it off. "Is there anything you have to say?"

"I wasn't peeping at ya," Gendry enunciated in his Fleabottom accent. "I just hadn't seen Miss Stormborn for some time and wanted to share some good news with her... She don't know I know, do she?"

"No, she doesn't."

"I'll keep it that way."

Jon nodded. "Is there anything else you'd like to say?"

"No, ser," Gendry shook his head. "Actually..."

"Out with it."

"Whatever you do, don't...," he hesitated, "don't fuck her over. Ser."

Jon didn't know why, but he grew defensive. However, he kept his voice even. "Is that all?"

"Yes, ser."

"Thank you for coming. You may leave."

"Ser." Gendry gave a sharp salute and left after Jon's dismissal.

As the door clicked shut, Jon rubbed a hand over his face. As fucked up as this was, it did nothing to dampen the anticipation of meeting with Daenerys again.

* * *

Above them, the vault of sky seemed to grow wider and higher as the morning wore on. He could hear the breeze swishing through the trees much clearer now and little animals scurrying and shuffling in the undergrowth.

They'd begun coming here on days that were work-free. Right now, they were in a spirited debated about the politics of the North from millenia ago.

"He became high handed and started stepping on people's toes," Jon said. "He became immoderate, wielding the axe on anyone who dared to confront him, masterminding electoral irregularities at the Wall with full blown violence and daring anyone to challenge him. He abused the support that lifted him."

"No," she said, shaking her head in disagreement. "People will often prefer to remain mired in misery than to head toward an unknown. It's because he was born Beyond the Wall, away from the Seven Kingdoms. That's why history is so unkind to him."

"He was a Bolton, Dany," Jon said. "There is nothing to be misunderstood about people who flayed people because they had an itch to scratch. It's their damn sigil."

"Misunderstood," she insisted. "They couldn't have all been bad."

"That's a possibility, no doubt. But not in this case."

"Agree to disagree," she said, tapping lightly on her hologram cube.

They'd both taken a break from working: she on her latest program which had made incredible progress - so much so that he sensed a deployment soon - and he on giving assessments on some soldiers.

"Are you angry?" he asked in amusement.

"Why would I be?"

"You lost an argument to me."

"Come off it, Jon. There are no winners or losers in things like this. At best, we left it at an impasse."

He grinned. "I presented you with facts and evidence."

"It happened thousands of years ago. How can you possibly know that all your _facts and evidence_ aren't nonsense?"

"Because I'm right." She ignored him. "You're ungraceful in defeat," he teased and got up from his sitting position to his knees so he could stretch his arms.

Daenerys said nothing and went about her work. Jon bent his head to look at her and she stopped what she was doing to look at him with an expressionless face. He stretched his neck and kissed her with a smile on his face. Her response was immediate, but she still maintained her mask. Jon pushed away her devices from her and then placed his arms on either side of her, leaning forward in such a way that she had no choice but to recline until she was on her back.

"Ungraceful," Jon grinned between kisses, "in defeat."

"You won nothing," she said, fighting back her smile. "The person we were arguing about might have never even ex--"

Jon cut her off with another kiss and what was light-hearted soon became heated. She moaned into his mouth as he placed a knee between her legs and began to move one hand from her stomach to the side of her breast. He took his hand from there and placed it on her lap then he raised her knee and began to slide his hand from her knee further down the side of her lap, slipping his hand beneath her gown and sliding it higher along the way. Pulling away from the kiss, Jon put his mouth on her neck and placed his tongue against her pulse where he knew it was hammering against her skin. He sucked her skin and groaned at how sensitive his crotch felt against her body when he ground into her with the slow motion of his hips. When his hand got to her underwear and his fingers skimmed beneath the lace to cup her bare buttock, she pushed at his shoulders.

"I can't," she whispered pleadingly. "Jon, I can't." She tapped his shoulder urgently with the heel of her palm and removed his hand from under her clothing, forcefully pushing down her gown.

Dazed, Jon groaned and placed his forehead between her neck and her shoulder. "Give me a moment," he said painfully. With both hands still on either side of her, he inhaled deeply and sighed resignedly. And like an avalanche, every memory his brain could muster of his wife came flooding in. It was a battle to mute his sense of right and wrong and sometimes he barely managed it, but never for long. He was supposed to take her to the Street of Flour about an hour from now. A new bakery had opened and they had a tradition of trying baked goods from any new bakery either of them saw.

Daenerys writhed under him in an attempt to escape him and he let her, moving away to lie on his back - very aware of how hard he still was. He stood and turned away from Daenerys who was arranging her clothing guiltily. He felt it too, deeply, but his attraction to Daenerys had taken on a life of its own. Add that he really liked being around her and it was a combination that did him no favours. It wasn't that he couldn't control himself around her - he could and he had - but he wanted Daenerys, therefore, he went after her...and further with her. Against everything that condemned his actions.

Jon closed his eyes and imagined fucked up shit: like all the dead bodies he'd found scattered Beyond the Wall after an attack from the Others. He breathed in and out slowly until sex no longer clouded his mind.

He turned back around and watched her pretend to work. Her hands gave her away. They typed clumsily and Jon couldn't help his smile. Gods help him, he felt his body begin to tighten.

_You're married_. That sobered him up quickly. No one deserved this less than Missandei. 

Jon hunkered down beside Daenerys and pushed some lose hair behind her ear. "I'm sorry I took it too far," he apologized, low-toned.

"It's...," she shook head and peeked at him. "It takes two people," was all she said. Those purple-blue eyes stared widely at him.

He checked for his phone, keys, and every other thing he needed.

"You're leaving." she observed. "Where are you going?"

Jon didn't want to hurt her, but he didn't want to lie to her either so he didn't say anything which was enough to pass the message.

"Oh." She cast her eyes downward to the screen.

He kissed her cheek and stood to his feet. "If you make a breakthrough--"

"You'll be the first to know," she said, fully focused on her screen now.

Jon sighed inwardly. "Dany."

She looked up. There was no anger on her face, but he could clearly see she was struggling with guilt and something else. "Go to your wife," she said gently.

"I'll see you."

"Sure," she said and went back to work.

  
**DAENERYS**

Daenerys parked her car in the parking lot of the Guildhall of Alchemists and held onto the steering wheel for what seemed to be hours. She didn't know how she would face Missandei. She'd come up with every excuse known to man each time they had to meet that it had begun to hurt her friend. Of all their friends, the only person she'd seen in the past two months was Jon. Two months since she'd first kissed him. Daenerys closed her eyes and kept from wincing at the mess she'd gotten herself into. _Gods..._

The light on the screen monitor of her car flashed different colours, showing that she had another call. _Missandei._ She felt afraid and ashamed, but sitting here wouldn't solve anything so she tapped the screen monitor and answered the call.

"Dany?"

"Missandei." She added as much brightness as she could to her voice.

"Aren't you coming?" She sounded ready to be disappointed.

"I'm here. I just got here." Missandei made a happy noise and Dany smiled despite herself. "Could someone please wait at the entrance for me?"

"I'm coming there myself."

Mustering up strength, she got out of the car and locked it.

She passed by families which were leaving the premises. It was about six in the evening now. Today, the plan entailed walking around the Gallery of the Iron Torches which was the receiving area for guests. There were less visitors by this time which meant that they would have more freedom to explore though they had less time to do so. From there, the children and Gilly would spend the night with Jon and Missandei while Sam would head back home to pick them up in a few days.

Daenerys made towards the imposing building constructed with black marble, keeping an eye on the look out for Missandei.

They saw each other at the same time and Dany beamed genuinely. She'd really missed her friend. They embraced each other tightly and for that little bit of time, Daenerys wasn't overcome with guilt.

"Dany, what did I do to you?" Missandei asked, holding her at arm's length.

"Nothing. There's just been a lot to deal with. Between here and Braavos, I've had to fly in and out of Westeros routinely." That part was true.

"Jon said it's not been easy on you at the base, but still... We've always made time for each other. I'm sorry, I don't mean to--"

"Missandei, stop. I'm at fault here. I'll do bett..." Her words slipped when she saw Jon at the far entrance watching both of them. No...looking at her. She quickly collected herself and put in as much interest as she could in catching up with Missandei.

"Jon, look who made it!" Missandei said excitedly. "At last! Where are the others?"

"At the food stand," he answered Missandei. "Daenerys." He bent to kiss Daenerys on the cheek. "It's been a while."

It took every single bit of firmness she had to hold herself together.

"You work in the same place," Missandei said as they walked to find Sam and his family.

"I meant since she joined us on one of these." He tugged Missandei's hair gently.

Daenerys looked away.

"There they are," Jon stated, pointing at them.

Little Sam was irate about something and pouted until he spotted Daenerys whom he ran to and flung himself at. Delighted, she lifted him and peppered his face with kisses.

"You smell like a lot of baked sweets," she said and inhaled his cheek deeply which had him giggling.

"At this point, he _is_ a baked sweet," Sam said, holding his daughter in one arm. "Dany, what's the difference between you being in Meereen and being here if we have to see you every five years?"

"It's just been two months," she said to Sam, "and look at you, sweetling," she cooed at the baby. "She's grown so big."

"You're missing out on everything," Sam said, using his other arm to embrace her.

Gilly waited until Sam was done to give Daenerys her own embrace. "He's right, you know."

"He is," Daenersy admitted as she dropped Little Sam to the ground and held his hand.

They walked the long chamber bathed by green embers of light which reflected on the walls and surrounding black pillars. A calming voice explained, through hidden speakers, the phenomenon of wildfire. Sam and Missandei were in their element here. They chatted excitedly, arguing about alchemy and sorcery.

They were at the Guildhall until it closed, thereafter, they went to purchase food. Sam and Jon took care of this and then they drove to an open field to eat under the fading light of day.

Daenerys snuck a look at Jon. Since she'd made up her mind to meet with everyone, she'd been so worried about how she and Jon would portray themselves, but from the looks of things, all that time worrying had been a waste. Through it all today, Jon had been...Jon. The doting husband to his wife. They sat across from her and she saw Missandei throw back her head in laughter at a private joke. Daenerys shifted uncomfortably. She didn't know what she'd been expecting would happen today, but it wasn't this. Apart from the first time she and Jon saw each other today, there'd been no looks from him, no attempts to want to talk to her...none of the things he usually did which showed there was something between them. Nothing. _I should be happy for her,_ she thought watching the joy and love on Missandei's face. Rather, Daenerys couldn't look any longer: focusing her attention instead on Little Sam who was seated comfortably on her laps.

She felt foolish and deep down, disspirited. All of which were followed by guilt when she recognized that twinge of selfishness for what it was. Suddenly, the food didn't taste as good and she began to count how much time she had left here.

* * *

Daenerys loosened her braids and brushed her hair, sliding the apps away from her mirror which also doubled as a monitor when she wanted to use it as such. She had come back home with the mission of burying herself in work until she fell asleep, but her body thought otherwise. Still, she managed a few things before and after the bath she took. When she was done with her hair, she went straight to her bed. Giving a command to her automated system to shut down everything in the house.

As she began to doze off, her a signal light on her phone blinked rapidly. She picked it up to see several messages from Jon. Fully awake now, she grew angry. She went through all the messages and almost didn't respond, but gave in and replied just one message:

_**Dany:** I'm at home. Safe. Thank you for asking._

_**Jon:** ...typing..._

Daenerys closed her eyes and turned her phone screen face down. Whatever he was typing, she just didn't want to see tonight. She struggled with her resolve, but held on stubbornly no matter how much she wanted to do otherwise.

A while later, her phone began to vibrate. She'd forgotten to turn off that feature from earlier. It was a call. It rang the first time and then the next and few more times before it stopped.

Tomorrow, she would face the truth. For tonight, she just wanted sleep. But it eluded her.

  
**JON**

He was up for his morning exercise, running around their quarter while it was still dark and quiet when a message came.

_"Night gathers, and now my watch begins."_

He stopped running and waited for the next message. As he expected, he was sent the coordinates to a secret location for pick up. He was being deployed for another mission Beyond the Wall. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know your thoughts.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 🔔🔔🔔🔔PLEASE READ!!!
> 
> Hey, everyone. Firstly, thank you for stopping by. Based on some really interesting reviews of the last chapter, I feel like, moving forward, I need to put this up so please bear with me.
> 
> From the first author's note I put up, this was there: The intent of this story is not to romanticize cheating or toxicity, but to explore the technicalities of what it is that makes people fall short in that regard.
> 
> This story does not seek to justify nor villify them, but to just show them as is. Two good people who will make mistakes and sometimes, act questionably. This doesn't mean that it's not a love story, it's just one built on the foundation of infidelity.
> 
> Lastly, the tags used were very intentional. To the person who asked me if this is a traingle, it's not.

**DAENERYS** **  
**  
  
She'd just gotten off the phone with Missandei. Jon hadn't been home in two days. He'd not been to work in that time either. The last time she saw him was around five days ago. They'd slowed down their private meetings after seeing each other at the Guildhall several weeks ago so much so that she couldn't define where they stood with each other. The lull or break was mainly on her own part because it was just easier for her to deal with... but the only thing it did was make her miss him more.  
  


  
The main reason she wasn't that much worried about his whereabouts was because Missandei said that Jon had told her that if he was unreachable after three days, it was because he was most likely on a mission. With special forces soldiers, they weren't called up like other soldiers and could be deployed anywhere in the known world on a whim. _That_ , however, came with a different kind of worry - fear for his safety. As much as she found herself hoping it wasn't so, she knew Jon had been deployed Beyond the Wall. She'd made great strides in puzzling out how the Others operated. It was no coincidence that shortly afterwards, Jon was nowhere to be found.   
  


  
There wasn't anything she could do beyond working on provided data as much as she could and being the support that Missandei needed. For now, at least.

  
  
**JON**  
  
  
The freezing wet snow seeped through his effects as Jon crawled through the undergrowth in the grove of weirwood trees. His destination was a particular cave and his instructions were to guard the cave. His orders had been clear: _"Defend, don't attack unless absolutely necessary."_ The Others wanted something or someone who resided in the cave and he was tasked to lead a team of twelve men who would protect it. He had an extra burden on him in addition to providing protection: bringing all his men home alive.  
  
  
He signalled to the five men behind him to run ahead. The full moon and their head gear provided all the light they needed. Their attire blended in with the snow. They were well camouflaged and had taken extra precaution because the cave was far behind enemy lines and anything could happen. He raised his hand and held a finger to his lips.  
  
  
Jon narrowed his eyes when one of the short trees moved too fluidly, then he took aim and fired. _Fucking snipers._  
  
  
Immediately, there were red dots pointed everywhere which indicated that there were more than a few snipers around, but all the dots were distractions from the real targets. He was prepared for death, but that didn't mean dying carelessly. Every move had to be calculated. He threw a canister in the air and when the enemy responded as he predicted, he and his men silently gunned down all they could find. After an hour of quiet, he walked out into the open slowly. He followed a path which led him to several dead attackers. He saw an enemy slinking between two branches and Jon walked up behind him to slit his throat with his combat knife. _A boy,_ he thought. He walked around the dead bodies and saw by, the markings or badges on them, that these were the foot soldiers.  
  
  
They still had a way to go before they reached the cave. Hours later, they made it there. Jon had tested the ground to find it was full of mines. They didn't have a lot of time and they needed to work quickly so Jon ordered for the devices they needed to incapacitate the mines whereby he and two other experts got to work.  
  
  
Done with that, he tested the area before any of his men and when he deemed it safe, he waved them through, pointing at what positions he wanted each and every one of them to be.  
  
  
"Be on the alert," he communicated through his head gear. "They'll be hear soon." Disabling the mines had to set off some sort of alarm. _Good_. He didn't want to kill just foot soldiers. He wanted to take out the head.  
  
  


  
  
  
 **DAENERYS**  
  
  
Daenerys lay awake and stared at the up at the ceiling. She couldn't sleep. Stretching her hand, she reached for her phone and scrolled through the last messages Jon had sent her before he'd gone Beyond the Wall. None of which she'd replied. If she could do things differently, she'd just live in the moment and not worry about consequences or the future...but her conscience prickled and she dispelled the thought. To entertain such notions would also mean that somewhere at the back of her mind, she was imagining even the tiniest possibility of never seeing him again. Rejecting it, she sat up and pushed her hair away from her face.  
  
  
She'd made a promise to spend the day with Missandei who was having sleepless nights of her own. These days, Daenerys spent more time in their home than she ever had since she came to Westeros.  
  


  
It was yet the earliest hours of the morning: the world outside was quiet, besides the sound of the occasional car that drove past. Unable to sit still any longer, she got off her bed to begin her day.  
  
  
  
  
 **JON  
**  
  
They were in a windowless guard room in the Gate of Gods. He'd flown in from the Wall that morning and had been driven here from the army airstrip to verbally brief his superiors on all that happened while he was Beyond the Wall.  
  
  
The past seven weeks had been harrowing, but they had been successful particularly for him because he'd not lost any man. Less than forty-eight hours ago, he had come close. A teammate had been trapped by the side of the cave when he'd taken cover from enemy fire and had expected to die, but Jon had run across the hill, climbed his way up using an old thick branch of the great weirwood tree and began to rain all seven hells on the incoming unit.  
  
  
His other men close by followed suit and gunned down the enemy with pin-point precision. After buying enough time for a retreat, Jon made his way down and hauled the wounded soldier across his shoulder, giving orders to his other men to pull back so they could all make it out of the kill zone alive.  
  
  
He'd killed one of the Night King's generals, but the other that had been captured had killed himself under their watch to keep their secrets safe. The fucker had also tried to take as many people down with him as he could.  
  
  
Jon breathed tiredly. He'd barely slept since then. It would have to wait. Today was Little Sam's fifth name day and he had an appearance to make. No one knew he'd returned. He smiled knowing that he was about to reunite with those he cared about the most. He would see his wife and his friends. He would see Daenerys. Both of them had been in a place of inertia before he left. It hadn't deterred him from thinking of her as much as he had in that time.  
  
  
The lights that illuminated the room flickered when the air conditioner was turned off. Jon stood when his superiors stood and saluted. Observing every necessary protocol until he left the place. A soldier was waiting to drive him to the base where his vehicle was. From there, he would stop by a gift booth and journey to the outskirts of King's Landing where Sam lived.  
  


* * *

  
Sam's courtyard had been transformed into a place of magical charm that no child would ever want to leave. Different coloured bright ornaments and trimmings everywhere. A table overflowing with gifts had been placed under a large tree fence and another beside it, full of the kinds of foods that were sure to put every child present in a state of blissful unconsciousness. Over the blast of music and the delighted noise of children running recklessly, a hazy distant chatter could be heard.  
  
  
Gilly was the first person to see him. Her face was washed blank with confusion, though her eyes were wide. She froze just before a grin crept into her face, it soon stretched from one side to the other showing all her teeth. "JON'S HOME!" she shouted above the cacophony and rushed to embrace him.  
  
  
Missandei appeared suddenly around the corner and Jon's own grin was instinctive. He was happy to see her. Sam showed up from wherever he'd been and soon Jon was swallowed by eager hugs and excited greetings from well-wishers. In the commotion, it would have been easy to miss that Daenerys wasn't here. He almost asked after her, but he didn't have to wonder for long as he sighted her at the opposite end of the courtyard holding a pie.  
  
  
"Dany!" Missandei said happily. "It's Jon!"  
  
  
Daenerys smiled at him and for a split second, he felt all the warmth from that smile before Missandei held his face and drew it down to hers.  
  
  
All that happened next went by all at once. Sam and Gilly ushering everyone to the courtyard so Little Sam could open his gifts and cut his pie. During all the name day rites, Jon stood holding Missandei to his side, but his eyes took in Daenerys who was smiling down at Little Sam giving his speech as was name day tradition. Though she seemed engaged in all that was taking place - not sparing even glance his way - Jon picked up signs that she was just as conscious of him as he was of her.  
  
  
With Little Sam done, everyone dispersed: the children went back to playing, but this time with his new toys. Some went around the house to the kitchen, presumably, judging from the platters they held. Others stood around chatting and keep watchful eyes on the children.  
  
  
The atmosphere was busy, energetic, and light. People streamed in and out of the house to the courtyard and vice versa, but it was notable to him that Daenerys wasn't one of them. She'd gone in after Little Sam cut his pie and hadn't come out since.  
  
  
  
When the attention on him lessened, Jon excused himself and went into the house. He passed by the living area and went to kitchen when he heard Daenerys' voice coming from there.  
  
  
"Did you want some more pie, Jon?" Gilly smiled at him when she stepped out of the kitchen. "There's cakes in there as well. Eat as much as you want." Jon helped her steady the small crate of drinks she held. "Gods be good, Jon. I'm so happy you're home."  
  
  
"Thank you, Gilly."  
  
  
When he went into the kitchen, he found Daenerys', with her head down, cutting up slices of the pie with apt concentration. Jon closed the door and relaxed against it, folding his arms to watch her. "Are you not even going to look at me?"  
  
  
She hesitated and dropped the knife. Jon moved further in and walked around her until he was beside her. He rested the back of his waist against the counter so he could see her properly.  
  
  
"I've missed you," he said and Daenerys looked up at him then. He wasn't just referring to the seven weeks he'd spent in the frozen hell Beyond the Wall when he said that. Her thoughts were bare on her face. Jon raised a hand and slowly ran the back of his forefinger against the softness of her cheek.  
  
  
Their little interlude was broken when the sharp cry of a child came from the living area. He drew his eyes from Daenerys to the door at the same time, she turned her head in the direction of the door. The voices that followed made him push away from the counter and walk towards the door opening it just in time for Sam to barge through. Others followed suit and the kitchen was soon filled with people stepping in and out of it which signalled the loss of privacy. He glimpsed Daenerys one last time and left.  
  
  
As evening came, guests began to leave one by one and the activities began to mellow out. The music turned soft and muted, playing in the background as the crowd dwindled until it was just the five of them and the children.  
  
  
Some people had been thoughtful enough to help clean and tidy up before they left so there wasn't left much to do. By this time, it had gotten dark. Missandei stood swaying with the baby who had taken ill earlier in the day. From what he could see, it appeared they'd be spending the night here or at least in a hotel close by because of how overwhelmed Sam and Gilly were.  
  
  
As they all caught up with each other, Little Sam was fighting to keep his eyes open as he lay across his father's laps. Daenerys stood suddenly and announced that it was time to bid them good night.  
  
  
"Now?" Sam asked, looking at his watch. Jon checked his as well. If she left now, she'd arrive King's Landing really late. "It's not safe to go alone by this time," Sam worried.  
  
  
"I should have never told you about the attempts on my life in Meereen," Daenerys said.  
  
  
  
"You actually don't need all of us here tonight, Sam. I'll stay back. Jon can drive her," Missandei offered and he could see Daenerys ready to decline. "Are you up to it?" she asked him. "You look tired. Maybe--"  
  
  
"It's doable," he said offhandedly. "I'll go home from there."  
  
  
"I'll drive your car to the city tomorrow, Daenerys." Missandei stretched out her hand for Daenerys to hand her the car key.  
  
  
After they all reached an agreement, Jon went to Missandei and pressed his head against hers. "I'll see you when you get home," he said to her hearing alone. He kissed the baby on the cheek and admonished playfully, "Don't be ill."  
  
  
After they said their farewells, Jon and Daenerys headed on their way.  
  
  
It was a quiet journey back to the city. They drove past streetlights and trees that lined the roads, only stopping when there was a traffic light that called for them to do so. Now and again, Jon would glance at Daenerys who stared out the window when her attention wasn't on the work her device projected. At the next traffic stop, Jon outstretched his hand to hold hers and caressed her palm. Her hand tightened around his in response. He released it when he had to change gears.  
  
  
An hour later, the familiar rise of buildings began to appear and the road grew busier. Even by this time, the city was bustling. In another forty-five minutes of manoeuvring through traffic, he finally made it to her house and parked in the driveway behind another vehicle she owned. He switched off the engine and turned his head towards her.

Daenerys held his gaze. They were both thinking the same thing. He could tell. For that stretch of time, the air was heavy with want and indecision - one of them had to be the voice of reason if they didn't want to overstep a very defined boundary.  
  
  
"Good night," he murmured. He made no moves to kiss her, tempted as he was. He didn't trust himself to drawback if he did.  
  
  
"Good night," she said and stepped out.  
  
  
He started the engine and watched her make her way in and waited for the customary flicker of lights from her house to show that she was safe, but there was nothing. A few minutes later, Jon turned off his vehicle and ignored all the thoughts that clamoured against him as he climbed the steps to her front door. No sensors were set off, but before he could knock or ring the bell, the door was pulled opened and she let him in.  
  
  
Jon entered her house. It was dark and the only light in here was what filtered in from the streetlights through the windows. She shut the door slowly and pressed her forehead against the door with one hand still on the knob. A position she seemed to have held before he came here. Jon stepped behind her until there was little space between their bodies and reached an arm to the control panel to turn on the light in the entryway.  
  
  
"No." Her hand dashed out to stop his. "Please." Her hand fell away.  
  
  
Jon dimmed the light until it was dark and turned his attention to her. He could still see her, just not as clearly as he wanted to. He traced her back slowly, trailing his fingers up and down before lifting her blouse up a little so he could feel her skin. It was hot. Unusually so. The other hand, he slipped around her, stalking from her taut midriff, sliding it between her breasts, and finally stopping to wrap it around her neck. He bent his head until it was beside hers, both of them breathing hoarsely.  
  
  
In a flash, he slunk both arms around her and began to unbutton her blouse. Done, he slipped them from her arms and covered one breast with one hand. Daenerys breathed in sharply when he squeezed and pushed her bra up to feel her nipple. With his other hand, he unclasped the hold of her shorts and pushed it down as far as his arm could reach. She took care of the rest and kicked it aside alongside her shoes. He quickly pushed her hair aside to suckle the back of her neck as he worked and pulled her nipple. She let out a long low sound and Jon released her nipple to nudge her around. When she obliged, he kissed her immediately. Daenerys' hands fumbled with his belt, but Jon lifted her and braced her back against the door. He wrapped her legs around his waist and then finished what she had started, hurriedly unbuckling his trousers and releasing his erection. Pressing the tip against her slit, he pulled away from her lips and wrapped his mouth around her exposed nipple, suckling hard and pulling aside the fabric of her underwear to push into her. Daenerys threw her head back and they moaned in unison. Jon steadied her with one hand. The sound of his flesh meeting hers filled the dark entryway as he thrust into her over and over. Daenerys' hands curled into his hair and he felt her tighten around him. He kissed her deeply and with one final thrust of his hips, pinned her the cold metal door. Daenerys arched her back as a wave of orgasm hit her. Even in this headiness, he wished he could see her face.  
  
  
They held onto each other panting with him still inside her. He could feel their ejaculations slip down his cock. Weakly, he lapped her nipple with his tongue one last time, pushed in a little, and then released her – breathing heavily as she unwrapped her legs from his body.  
  
  
Still pressed against her, he began to adjust his clothes and then her bra. As if a switch went off, the haze crashed and Daenerys pushed him away. She covered her face.  
  
  
"Please leave," she said shakily in a near whisper.  
  
  
He felt a great weight of guilt and shame. "Dany--"  
  
  
"Please," she said frantically, looking at him pleadingly and pulling the strap of her bra in place.  
  
  
Jon closed his eyes and swore under his breath. Conscience-stricken, he pressed a kiss to her head and left.  
  
  
  
 **  
DAENERYS**  
  
  
After Jon left, she stayed in place. Too ashamed to move. She could still feel him in her and that thought spurred her on. Quickly, she went to her bedroom and walked speedily past it into the bathroom. She couldn't even bear to look at her reflection in the mirror as she hurriedly took off the rest of what she was still wearing and turned on the shower.  
  
  
Sharp blasts of cold water hit her skin and she stood still for gods knew how long. After a time had passed, she began to scrub herself agitatedly. She felt dirty. Her limbs felt too heavy and her stomach was in knots. Daenerys closed her eyes as her mind began to replay all the events that led to her failing Missandei in the worst way possible. As much as she wished she could undo it, it hadn't been an accident. Nothing just happened. It had been premeditated and those ideas...those conceptions had been realized tonight. When they'd begun testing certain boundaries, she should have never tried to bury those seeds, she should have wiped them out because seeds were never buried, they only germinated. Unwittingly, her thoughts went back to just a few moments ago. Every touch. Every kiss...  
  
  
She let out a distressed sound and scrubbed harder. Her regret was great and her shame greater, not just because her resolve had weakened so much that she had not stopped herself, but because she knew deep down that if Jon came to her again, the likelihood of turning him away was slim to none.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it. Please drop your comment below


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Navigating the wrong choices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm back. I felt very ill and couldn't do anything for like two weeks. It was really challenging to wite and post this chapter, but I'm getting better. 
> 
> To those who signed the petition for my country the day of the masscre, there's good news: the UK parliament is moving forward to place sanctions of the people involved. It's still developing.
> 
> All in all, thanks for being patient and I hope you enjoy this chapter.

**DAENERYS**

Daenerys had just finished convening with some dignitaries from far away New Ghis. The meeting had lasted over an hour and she'd been able to strong-arm them into agreeing to a negotiation that worked more in her favour. She was very certain she heard one of them call her unsavoury names in the Ghiscari Tongue. Daenerys smiled a little and turned off her screen.

The evening sunlight made a rainbow through the large glass window that danced upon the wall. Outside, in the middle of her courtyard, her fledgling lemon tree waved this way and that from the wind that blew in from Blackwater Bay. Her phone vibrated suddenly and Daenerys looked down at it apprehensively. After the first ring, she waited and after a while when it didn't ring again, she felt relief wash through her. For nearly one week, she'd been in torment regarding communicating with Missandei and had outrightly kept away from Jon in every way possible. Had it been either of them, the phone would have rang more than once.

Slowly, she picked up the phone from its facedown position to see who it was. Like she'd guessed, it was neither Jon nor Missandei. Daenerys put her phone away and closed her eyes. There was truly no escaping either of them if she was being honest with herself. Memories of Jon's mouth over her breast as he pushed into her filled her head and she closed her eyes tighter. She didn't want these thoughts in her head, but she couldn't do away with them much as she had tried to. What usually accompanied these memories were the heaviness of deep regret and self-accusation. Never in her life had she imagined that she would be capable of such. Then there was the constant fear she lived with. The fear of being touted: always wondering if the next phone call or message was from Missandei or anyone else saying that they knew what she had done. The day after Jon had dropped her off at home, Missandei and Jon had both driven to her house to return her car, but she'd asked one of the soldiers to be on standby in her stead. She'd left her house in the morning and hadn't returned until late that night.

Daenerys opened her eyes and turned on her screen again, sending a command to her AI to increase the lighting in her workspace. She appreciated the brightness, for in it, there was nothing to hide. No hidden secrets to be ashamed of. No imagery of Jon hoisting her and pressing her against the door... _Gods, Daenerys._

With the intent of suppressing every reminder of that night, she got to work. Perhaps, this time, her concentration would not be broken. Perhaps, in the middle of this, she would not find herself typing a long apology or an explanation for debasing her life-long friendship with Missandei.

  
**JON**

Jon grew alert when he heard Daenerys' voice coming from behind him. He was addressing his unit within one of the storage facilities. When her voice stopped suddenly, he knew she'd spotted him. He pretended not to notice, to make things easy for her, but remained fully aware of her until she'd made it past the facility. Occasionally taking a gander at her, he noted her walking into a building in the company of some high ranking officials until she was out of his sight. Apart from meetings or briefings that they both had to attend at the same time, these were the only times he saw her. They hadn't talked, or more accurately, she'd steered well clear of him since after the day he'd returned from Beyond the Wall.

His commanding officer interrupted his work just then and Jon kept the man up to speed of all he'd done that day.

"Sort out the logistics of maintaining the new equipment, Captain Snow. Let me know the cost be of everything before the end of the day."

"Ser." Jon saluted.

The rest of his day went on predictably and when all was done, knowing fully well that she wouldn't be at the garden, he took a drive there regardless. When he got to the entrance gate of the premises, he contemplated with himself. Good sense won and he turned his vehicle around.

* * *

Jon took a moment away from reading and picked his phone to send a message to Daenerys. It delivered, but there was no response. The last time she had responded to him had been before his mission Beyond the Wall.

The last time she had read any message from him, however, had been four weeks and six days ago. When he'd gotten home after they had sex, he'd sent a message to her because guilt-ridden as he'd been, he'd been concerned about her wellbeing and all this time later, neither his guilt about what he'd done to Missandei nor his worrying about Daenerys had dwindled.

He wanted to do right by his wife. By whatever means it would take. Because he loved her deeply and because he'd sworn this to her before the gods. But his ethics as a husband were in conflict with how much he thought of Daenerys and _how_ he thought of her.

Missandei walked out of the bathroom dressed in very light clothes and walked straight to their bed where she sunk in beside him. Jon bent his head to kiss her and increased the pressure when she moved her hand upwards along his chest. He pulled apart gently and pressed a final kiss to her lips. Today, they both had very little work to do and had agreed to spend their time at home resting. He looked down at his wife and laughed when she swallowed a yawn.

"You're not done reading this?" She picked up his book.

"Time," he explained. "By the end of the day, or tomorrow, I should be done."

"Hurry. I want to know what opinions you hold on it."

He nodded and adjusted his position to accommodate her when she laid her head against his chest. Jon tapped on his phone to play a song she liked, lowering the volume until it was faint and took the book from her hand when she'd fallen asleep.

When Missandei turned away from him, Jon stroked her hair and sat up. He read one more chapter of the book before picking up his phone again. There were messages from the base which he attended to, but after flipping through apps, he wandered to his private messages again and tapped on Daenerys' name. Nothing. He didn't blame her. It was the noble thing to do. He'd tried it as well: after visiting the garden a few times to find it empty, Jon had respected her decision to keep away from him. For a time, he'd even stopped calling and sending messages. What he hadn't done was come to terms with the fact that every other way they had related with each other before what ultimately happened had been cut short. He valued that closeness with her. No matter what had happened between them before that night, they'd managed to maintain it. Even before he'd gone Beyond the Wall, as dubious as the situation had gotten, it hadn't been to this extent. He was still going through the messages when it unexpectedly showed that all the messages he sent her had just been read.

Furrowing his brows, he sent a new message immediately:

  
_**Jon:** Dany._

When no response came, Jon sighed quietly and put his phone away so he could go back to reading. His phone indicated that a message had come and he checked to see one from Daenerys. It was strictly to do with work, but it was enough to set Jon in motion. He needed to see her. His movements getting off the bed woke Missandei.

"What time is it?" she asked, rubbing her eyes. "Why are you getting dressed? A call from the base?"

"I'm just going for a drive," he said and buttoned his trousers. As He put on a shirt, it nagged at him that he'd just lied to her. It wasn't something he ever did. Until now, it would seem. He reached for a jacket before going to grab the keys to his vehicle, after which, he kissed Missandei and headed out.

* * *

The sun was still high and bright despite it being late in the afternoon. He parked behind two of Daenerys' vehicles and stepped out. He hadn't been here since the day he'd driven with Missandei to return her vehicle. She'd been away that day because she knew they were coming. He hadn't told her he'd be coming today so there was no time to prepare herself to getting around him.

"Captain Snow," her steward greeted him. "What a pleasure it is to see you. I'm not sure Miss Stormborn--"

"Is she home? It's concerning work," he said congenially.

"Yes, she is. In the courtyard at the back. If you'll just come with me..."

"That won't be necessary. I'll find my way there. Thank you, Osric."

Jon walked through the house, smiling at the familiar faces of her house staff and greeting them in return until he made it to the courtyard. Daenerys was on her knees, fully engrossed in planting seeds. Her hair was hung just below her waist. Jon walked in further as she patted the soil satisfactorily. When she turned her attention to the next seedling, he said, "Daenerys."

Her head jerked up and her lips were parted in surprise. She swallowed visibly and shook her head quickly, turning her attention back to her plants. "I didn't know you were coming here," she said.

Neither had he about an hour ago. "It's been a while," was all he said to that. He crouched down and asked, "What can I do to help?"

"You don't have to do anything. Osric will--"

"Dany."

She paused and breathed out she before pointing at crates of seedlings that had been placed in a medium-sized cart. "I need some help moving those."

They worked in silence after that with Jon handing her what she needed when she needed it.

From what he could see, she was planting trees. Different kinds of trees. It was obvious to him that she wanted to keep the conversation as minimal as possible so he didn't try to converse with her. Despite all efforts to appear impervious to him, there were instances where she handled the plants shakily, giving away how she truly felt about him being here.

When it was all done, Daenerys walked ahead of him and they went into the house. She busied herself around the house while he cleaned the soles of his shoes and then went to the living area to wait. Soon enough, one by one, each staff left until there was no one she could use as a buffer between them.

When she came to the living area, she was dressed in fresh clothes and she smelled like she'd just taken a bath or a shower. She was clearly uncomfortable so Jon didn't look at her for too long, though his mind had begun to imagine her naked. After a time of not talking to each other, Jon said, "I saw your message. Do you think we can get some work done?"

"It's late," she said as her eyes flitted nervously to a clock behind him. "It's urgent, but it didn't require you coming and I'm sorry that I didn't clarify that."

He knew all that and they both knew that wasn't why he was here so he resorted to honesty. "I came here because I haven't seen you for a long time."

Looking at her hands, she lightly dragged her thumbnail across the forefinger of her other hand repeatedly. "Would you like something to eat?" she asked after a long pause.

"What do you have to offer?"

She went to the kitchen and tapped on the screen of the fridge to see what she had available, then she listed them and he made his choice. After she served him, they attempted to make some headway with the work she'd sent him, but it was incommodious. Their interaction lacked the ease that they'd cultivated with each other. Done with his meal, he cleared the table and cleaned up after himself, then he went back to the living area, informing her on his way there. He took the remote and tuned into something that interested him. Though his concentration was on the large TV screen, Jon was apperceptive of everything Daenerys did. She joined him a while later, but left halfway into what he was watching.

He looked out the window: it was about the time that evening gave way to nightfall. Jon looked at his watch and then in the direction of the entryway to the living area. She'd been gone for about thirty minutes. He waited for some time and when she didn't come down, he took the remote and switched off the TV. He got on his feet ready to leave, but he didn't. Instead, he made for the stairwell.

His conscience weighed on him, but it didn't hinder him from walking up the steps. Everywhere was brightly lit here. He walked through the corridor of the upper floor, opening the doors to different rooms until he noticed a door that had been left slightly ajar. Straight away, he went there and pushed it open gently. It was dark, but he could easily make out Daenerys sitting on the foot of her bed with her face buried in one hand while the other hand gripped her bedding tightly. She didn't look up when he entered in and closed the door behind him. Light from the bathroom illuminated the bedroom, but not well enough because it passed through a slit: the bathroom door was open, but only very slightly.

In a few steps, Jon was in front of her and then he hunkered down so he could look at her as much as the lighting allowed. He pried her hand gently away from her face and slowly ran his hand from her hair to the left side of her face. Her eyes remained closed. He traced her lips with his thumb and stretched his head to kiss her. There was no resistance from her. She opened her mouth and he pushed himself upward and moved until she was underneath him on the bed.

When she whimpered, he grew harder. After pushing a hand under her shirt and sliding it upward to expose her belly, he ran his hands all over her body. How was her skin this hot? A faint memory of how Valyrians were not susceptible to heat crossed his mind. Jon pushed her shirt further up and slowed the kiss to a stop. Then took both her breasts in his hands and squeezed them lightly, pulling down her bra so he could rub his palms against her nipples. They were stiff. He reached behind her to unclasp her bra the same time she reached beneath his jacket and his shirt to feel his skin.

Jon stopped to take off his jacket and rolled away from her so he could take off his shoes then he assumed his former position. He slipped a hand down and pushed his fingers beneath her underwear so he could trail her slit with his finger. She bucked when he pushed that finger into her and he latched his mouth onto one nipple, suckling and gripping it very lightly with his teeth. He took a pause and they helped each other undress. Afterwards, he lifted her leg in order to settle himself properly on her so he could inch into her. Daenerys held his face all the while. Their lips were pressed against each other with both their mouths open as they panted.

Abruptly, she turned her head away from him, but Jon guided it back and held it in place, pressing his forehead against hers as he drove in and out of her rhythymically. A while later, she spasmed and shortly after, came his release.

Both sweating, they stayed that way for a while. When he felt her grow stiff, Jon placed his hands on her waist and squeezed softly, prodding her jaw with his head. "Don't do that," he said against her neck.

She didn't say anything and though she was still stiff, she didn't push him away either. They didn't move until Jon disengaged from her. Immediately, she turned away from him and sat up. He could feel the regret pouring from her. He exhaled and a heaviness clung to him. _What the fuck have I done?_ He stood and began to dress himself quietly. When he was done, he looked back at her and went to her.

When he'd come here to see her, it hadn't been to sleep with her. His intentions had been sincere - to her at least. Knowing that no words would do the moment any justice, he caressed her hair, dropped a kiss on her forehead and left.

On his way home, he noticed he smelled like Daenerys so he drove to the base instead where he took a shower. His clothes still smelled faintly of her, but the soap and deodorant were powerful enough to mask her scent. When he was sure nothing would give him away, he drove home.

After settling in for the night, he sent her message to check on her. He knew she wouldn't respond, but was surprised to see that she read it almost immediately. It wasn't much but it was more than he expected. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know your thoughts.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 🔔🔔🔔🔔 PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT: PLEASE READ!!!
> 
> Firstly, thank you for stopping by. In the last chapter, I received a lot of great reviews, ranging from outraged to downright sweet. Many people said amazing things, but for the sake of time, I'll just copy two comments that really got the heart of the last chapter:
> 
> "...while Dany is still trying to hide from her feelings, Jon is clear in his desire and want for Dany and is more prepared to face it and seek it out. ...you can see Dany try to fight her feelings while Jon is trying to prevent her from doing so, and instead wants her to let go as he has...When he saw Dany’s reaction and he asked himself what he had done I think it shows that he now realizes that while both he and Dany brought themselves to this moment willingly, he had a large part in it as he encouraged Dany’s feelings and actions and that he hasn’t considered all the consequences as well as he had thought (again, I don’t think Jon has been purposefully manipulative or tried to control Dany, but I think the scene perhaps shows him coming to terms with his own actions and perhaps power in the sense that he has been the driving force in propelling the relationship forward as he encouraged Dany to act on her desires instead of pulling away)." - Dreamfyre77
> 
> "I think that despite having everything with Missy, he can't avoid Dany.  
> It's something that you can't control like a magnet or something that is beyond you." - Ana3191.
> 
> Whatever you might think of Jon in this story, he's not being willfully manipulative. I want us to keep this in mind when we read this chapter. We get to delve deeply into Jon's head for the next three chapters following this one if you can be patient. Whatever you do, please don't forget that this story is one of infidelity. The characters MUST make mistakes and sometimes act in ways we won't agree with.

**DAENERYS  
**

  
As the sun shone happily on the cool, rippling surface of Blackwater Bay, children ran frantically towards the sea, as if competing for a reward. Watchful parents were either screaming for decorum or cheering their little ones on.

  
Daenerys sat under a canopy that had been reserved for herself and her close friends. Today was a day of their monthly convening. She'd purposely missed the last one and to atone for that, today she'd come earlier than everyone else. In order to manage the tenseness she was feeling, she availed herself to the only sanctuary she knew: work.  
  
  
Some time passed before Sam and his family made it.  
  
  
Sam looked quizzically at her – probably sensing her agitation – and the first words that came out of his mouth were, "Are you alright?"  
  
  
Daenerys moved her makeshift work station away and stood, dusting particles of sand away from her body. "Very."  
  
  
He eyed her as she fussed over the children and greeted Gilly, but didn't pursue it any further. "We saw Jon and Missandei drive in. They should be here shortly."  
  
  
She felt dread take course in her. "How long will it take them to get here?" she asked in a measured tone to keep her voice from shaking.  
  
  
"If you miss us this much, why do we have to beg to see you these days?"  
  
  
Daenerys hid her fears behind a smile, but kept looking in the direction that Sam and Gilly came from. When she saw Missandei and Jon, she felt her body go cold.  
  
  
As they approached, Daenerys fought the urge to retreat and leave.  
  
  
"Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea." Missandei announced affectionately when she approached the canopy. It was a title she’d grown fond of using in reference to Daenerys when Drogo was still in her life.  
  
  
Daenerys hoped her guilt didn't slip through her smile. _You wouldn't think anything of me if you know what I've done,_ she said silently as she returned her friend's embrace. Her heart was beating so fast. She detached herself from Missandei and turned around. She couldn't look at Jon.  
  
  
"Daenerys," he said, coming to stand beside her. "You brought work here?" he asked in his friendly manner.  
  
  
How could he sound so... laid-back?  
  
  
"She can't help herself," Missandei said.  
  
  
"Neither can you," Sam said to Missandei.  
  
  
"No wonder you're thick as thieves," Jon said to Missandei, though Daenerys could feel his eyes on her.  
  
  
He moved away like everything was as ordinary as they used to be. Behind her, she could hear him tussle with Little Sam. Thankfully, everyone was focused on socializing with everyone else so no one seemed to notice her state of unrest.  
  
  
Had she not been trapped in her shame, she might have enjoyed the afternoon as much as the rest of them. After they had their meal, everyone but Sam - who said he wanted some sleep - went to fill their time with what the available recreational activities on the beach. For a time, those served to distract her, but when evening came and they walked back to their canopy, all those feelings came back and they grew worse.  
  
  
Far ahead of her, Gilly held her daughter and monitored Little Sam who had suddenly found his love for the sea. Behind them were Jon and Missandei who were lost in their own world. She'd known what to expect - the last time they had all met like this, and every other time before then, Jon and Missandei were inseparable - but it still hurt. The reality of being the interloper in this scenario had never been more glaring. Unnerved when she recognized rudiments of expectations that weren't in any way warranted her, she stood still.  
  
  
The cold sea water gently lapped at her ankles and all around her, people carried on happily. Like they were at peace with life. When last had she felt that way? What she would give to have that back... Nothing was worth the cost of peace, she realized. _This has to end._  
  
  
The rest of the evening, she endured as best she could and when she got home and settled into bed, she knew it was only a matter of time before her phone rang with Jon on the other end of the call. He came to her that night. Like all the other times, they were hidden in the cover of darkness. And though she did not deny him herself, all she could think of during their time together, when her mind wasn’t trapped in the thick of passion, was, _This has to end._  
  
  
  
  
 **JON**  
  
  
Cold blue eyes stared back at him as he looked at a picture of the Night King on the holographic screen that had been assigned to him. Across the table, other military officials, including some from the Wall and the Northern army, sat looking at the same image. He could tell he wasn't the only one who felt unsettled. There was something so otherworldly about the leader of the organization that had struck so much terror in the hearts of people throughout the continent and even beyond. It was the first clear picture that they'd had of him thanks to a prediction Daenerys' AI had made of where his most probable whereabouts. The ones who were sent to spy hadn't made it back alive, but they had sent evidence of what they'd seen before they were killed.  
  
  
Jon's eyes travelled to where Daenerys sat. She was the only woman present. The only nonmilitary personnel allowed access to this meeting. Right now, the most senior officers were contemplating on the next thing to carry out.  
  
  
"What does Miss Stormborn think?" Brigadier General Joer Mormont asked. "You're credited with these new findings. What does your AI say?"  
  
  
"I'm afraid it doesn't work like that, General, but if I'm to work with loose estimates, Winterfell is one of their next targets."  
  
  
Jon looked at her sharply.  
  
  
"They can't breach the Wall," Joer Mormont said. The light from the central monitor cast a large shadow of his upper body on the wall. "I'm not underestimating what they can do, but since we found the main axis of the Others, we've kept close surveillance on them. Right now, it seems their main goal is sporadically attacking the Wildlings and recruiting some of them to add to their numbers."  
  
  
"So, kill them all," Stannis said.  
  
  
"Yohn Royce's son is one of their recruits," Joer said bitterly.  
  
  
"Waymar Royce?" Jon asked in surprise. "They recruited a Ranger?"  
  
  
That information caused an upset in the meeting room. What Jon knew about Waymar was that the other man had gone missing for years. A man with access to that much sensitive intelligence in their ranks could prove devastating for the Seven Kingdoms if not handled on time. In Joer's words, he'd only found out before he came to King's Landing and couldn't trust anyone else with that information.  
  
  
"Any threat to the realm must be destroyed. It doesn't matter what name they bear," another General said.  
  
  
For some reason, he looked at Daenerys then and caught her staring at him. She looked away and paid attention at what was unfolding before them.  
  
  
"If he's found, he must be brought to justice," Stannis said.  
  
  
"Could he be a spy, ser?" Jon asked when Joer specifically asked him what he thought.  
  
  
"That has been my assumption as well," Joer said gruffly.  
  
  
"If this is cleared on all levels that he's not, then he should become one of our main targets, ser, and he should be brought back alive if possible."  
  
  
Another two hours were spent fine-tuning certain details and the Northern soldiers relaying information on the growing unrest between some regions in the North and the Free Folk fugitives. In due course, the meeting was adjourned. Following that, Jon spent the bulk of his day in his office. Closing hours came and he could feel the number of people within his complex thin out. Still busy with some items on his regimen, he heard a knock on his door.  
  
  
"Come in." He stopped and lifted his head.  
  
  
The door was pushed open and before she even came in, he caught a whiff of Daenerys' perfume. Of its own volition, his body responded to her. He sat up and waited, watching as she came in and closed the door behind her. Immediately, Jon took in her appearance. It was one of those rare times her hair wasn't in a braid. She looked every bit the image of her powerful ancestors from Old Valyria - except for the look in her eyes. They were hesitant. Unsure.  
  
  
It was uncharacteristic of her to be here considering how much effort she put into avoiding him when she could so he sat patiently, waiting to hear what had brought her here.  
  
  
He offered her a seat, but she declined.  
  
  
It grew quiet. Then she frowned and said, "I don't think...I...want…"  
  
  
It didn't take him long to decipher what she was trying to say.  
  
  
"I can't any longer," she breathed out softly when she couldn't find the words.  
  
  
"I understand," Jon said gently.  
  
  
"Please don't come... restrict..."  
  
  
He nodded. "Alright." After a pause, he added, "I'm sorry." He wanted to say more, but he held his tongue and watched her leave.  
  
  
As strongly as he felt the need to, he didn't go after her because it would only prolong what she had just come in here to put a stop to and that wouldn't be fair to her.  
  
  
Jon put down his pen and leaned back on his seat. His father, Ned Stark, was an honourable man so, Jon had never understood why or what had made him look outside his marriage until Daenerys. Nothing could have ever made him imagine that he would have a wandering eye... That expression didn't feel right. It wasn't exactly accurate because outside his marriage, no other woman caught his eye besides Daenerys.  
  
  
For close to four months now, no matter how much he and Daenerys had danced around each other, they'd inevitably fallen. Without fail. Sometimes, it disconcerted him how much he wanted her. What he'd thought would be one time occurrence - a mistake too grave to repeat - kept growing into something he became bent on: the more he had her that way, the more he had to have her. And that desire had come at the expense of everything else. To say that the way the related with each other beyond sex was strained would be to understate it. He felt like he'd lost a friend.  
  
  
At the heart of all this was their shared love for Missandei. The first face that came mind when he thought of love was that of his wife. He didn't feel that way about anyone else which was why everything with Daenerys was such an enigma to him. No matter the depth of his remorse, it hadn't reined in the intentness honed in on Daenerys. And it wasn't for lack of trying: it wasn't because he hadn’t deliberately tried to stay away.  
  
  
Even now, Jon fought the compulsion to leave his office and find her. But he subdued it. He and Daenerys shared something, that was undeniable, but to reduce it to what it stood the risk of becoming was an ill turn.  
  


* * *

  
Missandei's eyes lit up when she noticed him and Jon felt soft-hearted in the way she made him feel. He pushed away from the stone pillar of a white tower which held one of the large bells of the city. She walked towards him and he held her when she got to him. It had been some time since he showed up at her place of work unannounced. "I have something for you," he said against her springy curls.  
  


* * *

  
"Where?" Missandei asked excitedly, trying to peek through her blindfold.  
  
  
"Just wait," Jon said laughingly and guided her down the glossy steps. When they reached the entrance, Jon placed his pass on a scanner which made a clicking sound and thereafter, the glass door slid open. Carefully, he guided Missandei's steps until they were right in the middle of the large building.  
  
  
"It smells like..." Missandei began and grew silent when Jon untied get blindfold. Her eyes grew large and she turned around sharply, "...new books." A huge grin played on her face and she looked at him. "Jon!"  
  
  
He smiled widely, pleased with himself for, not only surprising her, but also making her this happy. She lifted her face and he met her halfway for the kiss.  
  
  
"How did you do this?" she asked, moving away from him to start exploring the bookstore which also served as a library. It was an old printing press that had been converted. A place he'd found by accident.  
  
  
"I know people," was all he disclosed and walked behind her as she looked around.  
  
  
"Yes, but who do you know well enough to let you use the whole place with no other customers?" She stopped and frowned. "How much did this cost you?"  
  
  
Jon walked in front of her and kissed her nose. "My money." It was to celebrate the second yeartide of their marriage. The actual date had been barely two months ago, but Missandei had been so busy that he hadn't been able to do something as special as he would have liked until this opportunity presented itself.  
  
  
"Thank you," she said appreciatively. "How long do we have?"  
  
  
"The whole day."  
  
  
"Did...you buy the building?" she asked. She sounded both hopeful and like she was dreading his answer.  
  
  
He snorted and pulled her along. "If I say yes?"  
  
  
"We'd be the owners," she said, hope winning out.  
  
  
"So, now you don't care about financial prudence?"  
  
  
"Everyone has their weaknesses," she slipped her hand away from his. "I don't even know where to start. How many books can we borrow?"  
  
  
"...and buy," he added. Missandei was very traditional when it came to books and she'd mentioned how much she missed staying in libraries since she left the Wall. "As many as you want. The section on the forgotten dialects of the dead cities is right over there," he pointed at a cavity in the wall which held several shelves and was painted with depictions of what the ruined Qaathi cities were imagined to be.  
  
  
Jon followed Missandei around as she explored all parts of the building. Then he got a cart in which they could put all the books she wanted. When all was said and done and they drove back home, the only part of his vehicle that didn't contain books were the two front seats.  
  
  
After they got home, the next few hours were spent sorting out the new books and those on their shelves. Consequently, they ended up on the terrace. Jon lay on a hanging bed of canvas suspended between two posts and Missandei on his body. The bed swung lazily from side to side and he listened as she read to him. Unlike him, Missandei preferred works of non-fiction, usually anything that was academic, but this evening, she obliged him.  
  
  
"...stories serve the purpose of consolidating whatever gains people or their leaders have made or imagine they have made in their existing journey through the world. " She closed the book, mindful to keep her finger on the page she'd been reading and placed her head on her arms which were lain crossed on his chest. "Do you agree with that?"  
  
  
He brushed her hair. "I don't disagree, but this is just one view on what stories are so, I wouldn't take this thought as the only way to see them. I agree that we're a sum total of all our experiences like the author implies, but we shouldn't let them define us."  
  
  
She grew introspective as he dragged his thumb across one of her eyebrows. "Some experiences are smoother than others, making it harder not to be shaped by them."  
  
  
"Are we still talking about stories?" he asked.  
  
  
"Yes. And no."  
  
  
"What are you thinking of?"  
  
  
She shrugged. "Just...life. Who would we have been had we been subjected to different circumstances?"  
  
  
"Different people."  
  
  
"Do you think we would have met?"  
  
  
He smiled. "We would have crossed paths at least and in the event that we did in any other frame of existence, I'd still be your husband." He meant that.  
  
  
She offered him a quiet smile which tugged at his heart. There was so much goodness in her.  
  
  
"Keep reading," he murmured, opening the book for her.  
  
  
She did. He closed his eyes, soothed by the sound of her voice. As much as today had been about their marriage yeartide, he'd also wanted to create time for her. No matter how busy they got, at least twice a week, they had times like these to themselves.  
  
  
"Once you allow yourself to identify with the people in a story, then you might begin to see yourself in that story even if on the surface it's far removed from your situation...Jon?"  
  
  
He opened one eye. "I'm awake. Go on."  
  
  
She kept reading until the evening light began to fade. Too comfortable to stand up and switch on a light, Jon took his phone from his pocket to use the application connected to his control panel to do that. He noted he had several messages from work, one of which was from Daenerys. Since the day that she had come to his office, this was all the communication they had with each other when they weren't keeping up appearances in the company of their mutual loved ones. He hesitated, but put away his phone. Today was about his wife. He'd never erred on giving her his best during their private times such as this one, yet as the thought of Daenerys persisted he could feel his body stir.  
  
  
Missandei paused her reading and said "I know this is stimulating, but..." She looked between their bodies at the beginnings of a bulge in his trousers.  
  
  
He said nothing. Determined to make sure the day stayed about her, he stopped the bed from swaying and steadied them both. Then, he took the book from her, placed it on the floor, and drew her up to face him. Their lips met and he slipped his tongue into her mouth.  
  
  
When the kiss grew more intense, she pulled away. "We're outside," she whispered shyly and looked around self-consciously.  
  
  
Jon looked around as she lifted herself off his body. They left the terrace for their bedroom. She got into the room before him and as he shut the door, she began to take off her clothes. Jon went to her and skimmed her sides. When she shivered in response to his touch he caught himself thinking of Daenerys: her smell, the desperate sounds she made when she was under him, how warm and slick it had felt to be inside her. Jon's hands tightened on Missandei's ribs and he kissed her fiercely to dispel those thoughts. He'd never needed help being aroused by his wife and he wasn't about to let it start now. So, he paid deliberate attention to Missandei, ensuring he took his time to pleasure her with no one else but her in mind.  
  


* * *

  
  
"Another random drive?" Missandei asked, watching him put on some clothes after he came out of the bathroom. "How long has it been since your last one? Two months?"  
  
  
Jon looked back at her and smiled, but didn't say anything. He turned around to check his appearance in the mirror and walked to the dresser to get his keys.  
  
  
"Jon?"  
  
  
He raised his head.  
  
  
"You're alright, aren't you? I know you can't talk about certain aspects of what you do at work, but I'm good company."  
  
  
He nodded and smiled reassuringly. "It's nothing to worry about." He walked to her and bent down to give her a kiss. "I love you. I'll see you."  
  
  
Lights glittered everywhere in the city just liked stars. Buildings, large and small, collided in the shadows and the Red Keep loomed above them all. Vehicles rushed along tangled lines of the road creating twisting threads of light. He lowered the temperature of the air conditioner just little and listened to music. The further he drove, the less crowded it was until the tall large buildings fell back from his line of sight, making room for the smaller, but sprawling manses on this side of the city. He edged his way to the side of the road and parked his vehicle, though he left the engine running. He couldn't say he had no destination in mind when he’d left his house tonight, but he hadn’t driven out for any of his usual reasons. He'd driven this far because wanted... something. If nothing else, to catch glimpses of that light-heartedness that had been so commonplace with her. But it was something he hadn't experienced for some time now and the chances of experiencing such with Daenerys at the moment, or any moment for that matter, were highly unlikely.  
  
  
After a while, Jon sighed and reversed his vehicle. He didn't go home immediately, but drove about the city. To clear his head and to relieve himself of the weight of Daenerys' absence. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it. Please let me know what you think. Vent if you must. I'm always happy to hear from you. Thank you for reading.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone. New chapter.

**JON**  
  
When Jon overheard one Free Folk, whose name was Tormund, offhandedly make a remark about fucking Rickard Karstark's wife and daughter and "making them slick as baby seals," to his face, he swore and strode the grounds quickly to stop another fight. After he barely managed to talk the Lord of Karhold into putting away his weapon, the other man spat on the ground and walked away.

  
Jon looked at Tormund and said amusedly, "You have a shitpot for a mouth."  
  
  
The Free Folk laughed heartily and clamped his hand on Jon's shoulder. "You people from the south with your prickly ways."  
  
  
"Are you trying to ruin the pact we've established between the North and the Free Folk?" Jon asked and adjusted his jacket to ward off some of the cold.  
  
  
"A little fight never hurt anyone. That wall you built has made you all soft."  
  
  
Jon smiled. If he followed that statement, he wouldn't hear the end of how little Tormund thought of the Seven Kingdoms.  
  
  
For the past three weeks he'd been moving between King's Landing, different parts of the North, and starting a few days ago, the Wall. He'd been sent here as a mediator between the Northern army and the Free Folk because the latter trusted him and also because he was Ned Stark's son. Intelligence about the Others had come in a few days ago so part of his duties now included monitoring the situation Beyond the Wall.  
  
  
Hung low by the weight of snow, the branch of a sentinel tree waved close to his face and Jon pushed it aside as they walked out of Winterfell. Even in Summer, Winter never really left the North.  
  
  
The dark grey uniform of the Northern soldiers stood out against the white of the snow and the clear blue sky as they marched at the command of the one in charge of that unit.  
  
  
Tormund scoffed. "The Night King and his armies must be terrified of that," he said mockingly.  
  
  
There was no convincing him of the importance of discipline in an army so Jon didn't bother. They'd fought side-by-side years ago Beyond the Wall. The Free Folk were fierce, but their lack of coordination was a weakness.  
  
  
"Have you thought about our offer?" Jon asked.  
  
  
"The Free Folk have no king. When we defeat the Others, we'll return to our lands."  
  
  
"My father is no king. He's Warden of the North."  
  
  
"Look at all these people around you, Crow. If your father makes an appearance right now, you will all stand as still death. Even the trees would sway should the winds blow. That is almost as bad as kneeling and we do not kneel." Tormund laughed when some children threw balls of snow at him and made one himself, aiming perfectly at the head of their leader.  
  
  
"We all descended from the First Men. We share the same gods. The difference between you and us is the Wall."  
  
  
"And who is to blame for that?" Tormund asked. "Brandon Stark--"  
  
  
"Is long dead," he said, taking note of his surroundings.  
  
  
It always struck him how Winterfell and the North in general were different from King's Landing. It didn't lack for advancement, but there was still something so raw and untouched about the place. A squirrel scurried frantically onto a tree and not long after, he saw the bushy tail of a fox disappear behind the tree. A mild scent of ironwood lingered in the air.  
  
  
They stopped by an old large sturdy vehicle and Tormund went around to the driver's side. As he was opening the door, he noticed the crates of fermented goat milk mounted on the backseat and grinned. "You fucker." He stretched the upper half of his body to tear one bottle away from the crate, opened it and gulped it down. "Ah..." He shook his head and his wild red beard waved at the motion of his head. Then he had a rare moment of seriousness. "I'm not the one you should be talking to."  
  
  
"You have his ear."  
  
  
"Mance will never agree to it."  
  
  
"Lord Stark needs an answer by the end of the week."  
  
  
"The elders of the Free Folk will tell your father to fuck himself with his offer, but for this gift," Tormund threw the empty bottle on a small mound of snow, "I won't use words as harsh as those to tell you no."  
  
  
"Talk to Mance," Jon persisted and stepped back when Tormund got into his vehicle.  
  
  
"You should as well. I shouldn't tell you this, but he likes you. With the respect he has for your father and for you, you might get somewhere with him."  
  
  
Jon nodded and watched Tormund drive off. He laughed when the other man purposely dug his tyre in the snow to spray it on the wayward children who had bothered him with snow balls earlier.  
  
  
  
  
 **DAENERYS**  
  
  
The grey wolf of House Stark shone when she turned the missive over to read what was at the back of it. Lord Stark had invited her to Winterfell to join in celebrating closer ties between the North and the Free Folk. He'd gotten wind of her coming to the Wall around the same time the feast would hold and had extended an invitation to her as a courtesy and as an opportunity to thank her personally for all the information her AI been able to help in intercepting from the Night King about an attack they had been planning on Winterfell.  
  
  
Her first instinct had been to decline, but in the years that she'd known Sam, he had mentioned several times how such could be seen as a dismissal and taken as a slight by some lords. She didn't know Eddard Stark beyond what she had researched of him and also him being Jon's father. Edginess gnawed her insides, but she tried to still herself: Missandei had told her Jon would be away from Winterfell today. These all accorded her the time and occasion to see, face-to-face, one of the men who had been one of the main players in bringing ruin to her family's great dynasty.  
  
  
Her plan was to spend a few hours in Winterfell and then fly to the Wall where her presence was needed urgently. Daenerys put the missive away and sat back against the soft leather seat of the aircraft.  
  
  
It was a smooth flight that arrived later than she'd anticipated. For the sake of her convenience, Daenerys had opted for hiring a private service which included the plane and a temporary guard to drive her around as opposed to accepting the escort of the cortege of Northern soldiers that Eddard Stark had offered her as his guest.  
  
  
Alighting the plane, the first things she noticed were the sunshine and cold: how, somehow, it was warm even when the north wind bit. It was a new experience. She smiled at the guard and followed when he guided her to the car. On their way to Winterfell, she regarded the world outside. It was different, but no less beautiful than she'd expected: hills covered in countless pine trees and mountain tops painted white by snow. When they passed by a forest, she wondered if that was the Wolfswood. Jon had spent days there as a boy. Remembering that little detail quickened disquietude in her, giving room for other things she'd rather not be focusing on. As the journey progressed, more things kept mounting on top of the other, colluding and clogging her concentration: what she'd done to Missandei, how she felt about Jon, meeting his father who, for all she knew, had been the one to personally kill members of her family. When her mind was glutted with these and she couldn't think on anything else, she told the guard to turn the car around and drive her back to the airport.  
  
  
More than an hour later, they lifted off the ground and were in the skies once more. Daenerys never ran from difficulties, but in this, she had nothing to lean on or look to in order to get any kind of guidance on what next to do. There was no one to talk to about this. It took a moment, but she regained mastery of her thoughts and the first thing she did after that was send her regrets to Eddard Stark.  
  
  
  
  
 **JON**  
  
  
"A toast to Jon Snow!" Lord Manderly's voice resonated in the Great Hall of Winterfell. "Captain of the Armed Forces of the Seven Kingdoms, but at heart, a true Northerner. Another house has been added to strengthen our numbers because of you."  
  


Jon raised his glass amidst the cheers. His father smiled solemnly, but there was pride in his eyes. It didn't matter that he was a man now, that look still meant a lot to Jon.

  
The feast grew more disorderly and Jon excused himself from the raised platform in the hall where he and his father sat. It was dark outside now and quite clear that Daenerys wouldn't be in attendance. Truthfully, he wasn't surprised, but the part of him that had finished all his duties with enough time to make it to Winterfell before the day ended was disappointed. He didn't wallow in it too long. Maybe it was because he was coming to terms with how things were now. A little over three months had passed since they'd had any contact with each other outside work or the monthly meets. He knew they would both be working at the Wall at the same time, but it would be at different stations.  
  


He walked out into the castle yard. It wasn't as cold as it had been on some other nights prior to this one. Jon avoided the large gatherings of soldiers and guests who could not be in the Great Hall and took a quieter trail around the grounds until he was in the godswood of Winterfell. It was darker than the rest of the castle because of the cluster of trees, but he knew this place too well to not make his way around it with ease. His boots padded through the mulch, each step bringing to surface, the thick smell of wet soil, until he was at the centre of the godswood.  
  
  
The carved face on the great heart tree bled red. The same as it had the day Ashara's body had been found. He'd run here for comfort that day and had cried until he'd lost his breath. His father had found him unconscious. Jon wondered if his father still came here as often as he used to. He dipped his hand into his pocket and took out a small key. An emissary from House Dayne had pressed it into his palm at some point in the Great Hall.  
  
  
 _"Hand this to your father."_ He smiled sadly at Jon. _"You will always have a place in Starfall."_  
  
  
Would that he could bring her back. Sometimes, time did nothing to dull the pain. Knowing his father, Eddard was the most unlikely to talk about what the key represented. Jon sat there for hours, during which, he checked with Missandei. When he couldn't bear the chill anymore, he set off for the castle. It was still alive, but many had turned in for the night or taken their leave. Jon took several turns, greeting the guards and workers, until he was in the upper part of the Great Keep.  
  
  
"Snow," Jory Cassel said, giving Jon his usual wry smile. Jory was one of Lord Stark's most trusted men.  
  
  
"Is he in there?" Jon asked as Jory closed shut the door of his father's solar.  
  
  
"Aye, he is," Jory answered.  
  
  
Jon nodded and Jory patted Jon's shoulder.  
  
  
He knocked once and opened the door when he heard, _'Come in.'_  
  
  
"Jon." His father smiled and gestured for him to sit opposite him.  
  
  
Jon poured himself a drink first before joining his father.  
  
  
"You did well," he said to Jon as soon as Jon sat down.  
  
  
"Thank you, Lord Stark." It was the first time he saw amusement in his father's eyes since his arrival today. The formality at this time amused him. "So, where do we go from here?"  
  
  
"The North, you mean. Where does the North go from here?" His father smiled slightly. He wasn't the most affectionate of men, but his grey eyes were kindly as he looked at Jon.  
  
  
"I am still your son," Jon said, smiling in return.  
  
  
"Whose side will you be on if the North decides we tire of the Seven Kingdoms?"  
  
  
"Uncle Benjen's."  
  
  
The solemnity on Lord Stark's face eased some as he laughed. When he quieted, he said, "Your brother says there are whispers amongst the Reachmen of us bolstering our forces with the Wildlings."  
  


Jon shrugged and sipped his drink. "They don't understand what lies Beyond the Wall." He shook his head. "It's unlike any threat we've ever faced and it's being minimized. If they held even an inkling of what the Night King is capable of, everyone would be banding together to fight that evil."  
  


"Winter is coming." House Stark words. The lighting in the solar sheened the grey in his father's hair.  
  
  
The silence was only disturbed by the fire rustling in the hearthstone until Jon said, "I saw a guest from Dorne today."  
  
  
His words were met with silence and glumness, the lines Lord Stark's face deepening as a result .  
  
  
Jon took out the key and placed it on the table. It was uncomfortable to see that much sadness on his father's face.  
  
  
"Letters," his father finally said. "There's a chest... I received it years ago, but the key was never found. I suppose this is it." He picked up the small key and stood. Jon followed suit and walked with him to the lord's chamber.  
  
  
Jon hid his surprise at Lord Stark keeping the chest that close by, but he was somewhat glad that Ashara's memory hadn't been so easily replaced.  
  
  
From a hidden place in the wall, his father drew out small wooden chest. "Take this."

  
Jon met Lord Stark where he stood and took the chest from him. "I'll sort out what's yours and--"  
  
  
"No," Lord Stark said.  
  
  
Neither he nor his father said anything, but this evoked powerful memories. In the days following Ashara's suicide, his father had brought him here a lot to keep an eye on him. It had just been the both of them just as it was tonight. His half-brothers and sisters were either in Riverrun with Catelyn or other parts of the realm.  
  
  
"I should retire for the night," Lord Stark said.  
  
  
"Good night, father."  
  
  
After settling in for the night, Jon opened the chest and saw two bundles of letters and an old journal. It was a bittersweet feeling he experienced as he took the journal out of the chest: he could recall himself, as a boy, taking it away from her when she'd been writing in it so she could take him to Winter town as she'd promised. Jon put it on the bed and flipped through the letters, randomly picking one from the bundle which was meant for him. He tore it open and began to read it:  
  
  
 _My dear boy..._  
  


* * *

  
Angry waves rose and crashed against the jagged rocks that were the foundation of this garrison. Eastwatch-by-the-Sea was the last of the military bases. It was built on the easternmost part of the Wall and according to intelligence, the most likely to be attacked by the Night King. His stomach rumbled, but the charge at hand needed to be done as quickly as possible. He was shouldering more responsibilities than he had in King's Landing, but his official work days here were less. Jon tapped on his desk and a screen was projected on his office wall. Five minutes later, he sat in a conference with some other military officials. The conference lasted less than an hour, after which, Jon went to the armoury to inspect it. When he completed that, he reported the state of the weapons and what needed to be added before heading for the barracks where he was housed temporarily.  
  
  
Jon showered, ate, and picked up Ashara's journal. The letters had been difficult to read, but somehow, the journal was worse. There were many things in there that he read: very private things he got to know of for the first time. Seeing her thoughts transition from the woman he knew to how she began to view herself was disturbing to say the least. Had he known it would have been so, he would've followed Lord's Stark's example, but he wanted to understand her reasons and after he'd begun, he felt he owed it to her to see it through to the end.  
  
  
He continued to read and when he got to where her thoughts took a very dark turn, Jon closed the journal and put it back inside the chest. _No more_ , he thought as he put everything away and settled down to sleep. The last words he read preyed on his mind so much that he picked up his phone. He dialled Missandei's number and started to call her, but cut it before it rang and typed in Daenerys' number instead. After the fourth ring, she picked his call.  
  
  
"Jon." Though she sounded like she'd just been asleep, there was cautiousness in her voice.  
  
  
"I woke you." He paused. "I'm sorry."  
  
  
"It's alright," she said and sniffed. He could hear some very faint sounds in the background, like she was sitting up. After a stretch, her voice grew more alert with worry. "Are you alright? Did something happen? Is it the Others?"  
  
  
"No, it's not," he told her to quell her worry. He waited for some seconds and asked, "May I see you tonight?" She was at Castle Greenguard, the garrison directly westward to Eastwatch. He could sense her hesitation, so he added. "To talk."  
  
  
After a beat, she answered. "Alright."  
  
  
It took a moderate amount of time to get there and he went about it discreetly. From the coordinates Daenerys sent him, she wasn't at the accommodation provided her by the military but a private lodging close to the garrison. The snowfall was heavy tonight, but he managed through and made it there some thirty odd minutes later.  
  
  
It was a semicircle of seven houses designed similarly, concealed by the pine forest surrounding it. Daenerys was lodged in the fourth house from the right. Jon's face began growing numb from the cold as he went up the steps. When he was outside of her door, he sent a message: _I'm here_.  
  
  
Not long after, the door beeped and she opened it to let him in, taking a moment to shut it close before turning to face him. His mind, which had been dogged by all manner of thoughts since he'd begun reading Ashara's letters and journals, was met with a stillness. Jon still felt melancholic, but there was a calmness now that hadn't been there before. It was then he noticed just how much he'd missed her. Daenerys was beautiful as ever and her eyes were as expressive as he remembered. Right now, they were wary.  
  
  
Daenerys cleared her throat. "Welcome." She wrung her hands and then gestured for him to take off his coat which he did. There was a bench at the entrance for people to take off their wet shoes. It was comfortably warm to sit on. Underneath, a rack for the shoes to dry on.  
  
  
Jon began unlacing his boots and looked up when she moved away from him. Calling her had been unexpected and being here was on short notice so he could imagine her line of thinking right now.  
  
  
"I read letters that Ashara left behind," he said, taking off one boot.  
  
  
"What?" she asked, her disposition immediately changing from discomfort to concern. "Are you alright?"  
  
  
"No," he answered, taking off his other boot. She sat next to him.  
  
  
Daenerys stood when he was done and Jon followed her to the lush living area, joining her on a soft settee that faced a thick glass wall which gave him a clear view of the snow covered trees outside.  
  
  
"Is that safe?"  
  
  
"It's opaque from the other side."  
  
  
Jon nodded and directed his attention back to her. "The letters to me were what you'd expect of a mother writing to her son. The ones to my father gave glimpses of where she was headed."  
  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
  
"She wrote a lot about her brother who'd died. Arthur Dayne. She used to tell me stories of him." Then he shook his head and rested it against the board that divided the living area from the rest of the suite. "The journal... My father couldn't even read any of it. I wish I hadn't."  
  
  
Daenerys shifted closer and held his hand. Jon wrapped his fingers around her hand.  
  
  
"Is there anything I can do?"  
  
  
Jon drew his eyes from the ceiling to smile sadly at her. "No." Her head was resting on the board as well, but she sat facing him. He released her hand and lifted it to run a knuckle down her cheek. "I just needed to tell someone." Jon dropped his hand. "Thank you."  
  
  
She shook her head slightly as if to underplay the kindness she'd just shown him. He regarded her. Those soft eyes held in them, compassion. His heart rate grew unsteady and in a moment of clarity, Jon recognized the stirrings of a deep tenderness he'd only ever felt for one other person.  
  
  
He raised a hand to brush her cheek with his thumb, then he placed his head against hers and nudged Daenerys' nose with his, closing his eyes. Jon reached a hand to pull her even closer so he could hold her. When he raised his head, they shifted until her head was against his chest. After a space of time, he felt her body go lax in sleep. Jon eased them both until they lay comfortably facing each other, interrupting her sleep briefly.  
  
  
Jon caressed her hair as he watched her sleep. Not long after, his eyes drooped close.  
  
  
He woke up with a start and checked his watch. He'd been asleep for four hours. It was some minutes to two in the morning. If he left now, he'd make it to Eastwatch before three. That would give him more than enough time to be early for training.  
  
  
Daenerys was nestled against him so he carefully and quietly disentwined himself from her. He looked around the living area until he found a pen and a paper to keep her informed of the time he was leaving and to thank her once more. He kissed her cheek softly and left the paper where it could easily be found. Thereafter, he left. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it. Thank you for reading. Please leave a comment and let me know what you think.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone.

**JON**  
  
  
The notification sound went off on his phone and he lifted it to see a message from Daenerys. Jon smiled, his already good mood becoming even better. He'd sent her a message to thank her again after he returned from her place in the early hours of the morning. He couldn't respond as well he'd have liked because of all the things he had to supervise and coordinate at the moment, but he sent a quick reply to explain that.  
  
  
After work, he drove home, making sure he was well settled without any distractions before reaching out to Daenerys:  
  
 ** _Jon_** _: I'm back. I'm sorry it's taken this long to give a proper response. It's been very busy here.  
  
_  
He sent it and waited. After several long minutes without a reply from her, he picked up a book and began to read. His notification went off: a message from Daenerys:  
  
  
 ** _Dany_** _: Good evening, Jon. I got in a little while ago. I understand. The work here has either been without pause or very light depending on the day.  
  
 **Jon:** For me, it's the former. All the time. Less work days, however.  
  
_There was a short interval before she sent another message: _  
  
 **Dany** : How are you dealing with everything today? Are you better?  
  
_He felt sadness threaten to dampen his present state, but he didn't give in. _  
  
 **Jon:** Better than yesterday, definitely. I put the journal and the letters away.  
  
 **Jon:** I don't think I'll read them again. Or at least for a long time.  
  
 **Dany:** That's a good thing. I'm sure she would understand if she were here and if I were to guess, you were never meant to read the journal.  
  
 **Jon:** No, I wasn't. But in a way, I feel like I understand better. There was this hollowness... I don't know how else to explain it.  
  
 **Dany:** I can empathize.  
  
 **Jon:** Viserys?  
  
 **Dany:** And my father, but demise wasn't as sudden as Viserys'. He just disappeared one day and came back dead.  
  
 **Jon:** That's rough. How did you recover from that?  
_  
 ** _Dany:_** _I can't say that I have fully. Sometimes, I feel this...  
  
 **Jon:** Hollowness?_  
  
Even with this means of communication, he could feel the shared amusement. There and then, he wanted to hear her voice.  
  
 ** _Jon:_** _Is it alright if I call you?_  
  
He waited.  
  
 ** _Dany:_** _It is.  
_  
  
Jon dialled her number immediately and she picked it. "Hollowness," he said, continuing from where they'd stopped.  
  
  
"Yes," she said. He could hear the smile in her voice which drew out his, despite the morbidity of the discussion. "But time has a way of concealing it that sometimes I forget it's there."  
  
  
"It's less painful as time flies," he agreed. "But the little reminders can open floodgates..." He stopped, not wanting this to become grim. "How have you been?" Jon asked.  
  
  
"Well," she said.  
  
  
"How are you finding this part of the Seven Kingdoms?" He was mindful that his questions and everything else didn't come off as him trying to stoke what she'd ended. He asked because he genuinely cared to know how she was faring.  
  
  
"It's different. Really cold. I anticipated it, but I still wasn't prepared for it."  
  
  
"What did you expect?"  
  
  
"Not this."  
  
  
He let out a small laugh. "The further north you go, the colder it is. There's a taste of Summer in other parts of the North, though."  
  
  
"Hm." He heard her exhale. "The Wall is truly the wonder they say it is."  
  
  
"More impressive than pyramids?"  
  
  
"I saw those all my life, so in a manner of speaking, yes. A whole wall made of ice. That's..."  
  
  
"It is," he said in understanding. "Built by Bran the Builder."  
  
  
"Your ancestor. He's said to have built a lot of the great structures here in the Seven Kingdoms. What do you suppose he built the Wall for?"  
  
  
"An existential threat?"  
  
  
"Like the Others?" she asked, her voice growing curious.  
  
  
"Who knows? No one knew anything about them until they started killing randomly. Maybe they've always been there as a cult, hidden - a myth long forgotten - to keep themselves a secret. Maybe this generation of them decided to make themselves known. Who knows?"  
  
  
There was a brief moment of quietness. "You'd make a great poet."  
  
  
Jon's eyes widened a little. It was something that very few people in his life knew, but he enjoyed writing when he could. Not poetry per se - scribbles of things that came to his mind. It was a little hobby he'd picked up from Ashara. "I'm better at being a soldier."  
  
  
"Mm," she hummed. "I hope this ends soon. There's a lot of fear and foreboding amongst the Free Folk I've met here."  
  
  
"Amongst the soldiers as well. The good thing is that there's a sense of shared purpose between the Northern army, the military of the Seven Kingdoms, and the fighting men and women of the Free Folk. This far away from the noise of the political atmosphere in the rest of the realm, at least."  
  
  
"It really puts things in perspective. It still doesn't feel like Tywin understands the seriousness of what lies Beyond the Wall."  
  
  
"Sometimes, I hope he never does because that would mean their defeat: it would mean they could never get access past the Wall. It would mean they’re no longer a threat."  
  
  
"It's a fortress. Reports show that every attempted attack on it has failed."  
  
  
"We've never had enemies like these."  
  
  
"Are you afraid of them?"  
  
  
"I'd be a fool not to feel fear, but it's what I do with it or about it that matters."  
  
  
"I heard soldiers are trained to eliminate fear."  
  
  
"Who told you that?"  
  
  
"Is it true?" she answered with a question of her own.  
  
  
"Partially. In some instances, you can't afford it. You need a clear head to think. Other times, it's there and you have to push past it. Truthfully, a battle is only glorious in stories and songs. The reality of it doesn't hold as much appeal. But it's worth it, fighting for something you believe in."  
  
  
"Fighting to leave the world better than you met it."  
  
  
"What do you believe in?" he asked, fully invested in her answer.  
  
  
"My legacy."  
  
  
"And what does Daenerys Stormborn want to be remembered for?"  
  
  
He heard her take in a deep breath and let it out. "Hmm... That's a question that requires a lot of thought because the answer will keep evolving, but in the most basic sense, changing lives."  
  
  
He had no doubt that was least of what she would accomplish. "You're already doing that," he said, feeling a sense of pride in her. "History will remember you."  
  
  
Neither of them said anything for a while. He could hear her breathing on the other end of the line. For that moment, Jon closed his eyes. To interpret what was going on in his head and his heart right now. He had become so preoccupied in the resulting disruptiveness of what it was that existed between them that he'd missed the more important details that had quietly, but firmly and steadily grown unnoticed in the background.  
  
  
"I still have a lot to do that I haven't done today," she said.  
  
  
Jon opened his eyes, almost asking that she stay for a few more minutes. Instead, he said, "Thank you."  
  
  
Daenerys laughed. "How many more times will you thank me?"  
  
  
"As many times as is required, Miss Stormborn," Jon said, infected by her amusement. "Good night, Dany."  
  
  
"Good night, Captain."  
  
  
Before he slept, at different intervals, Jon found himself smiling anytime a random part of their conversation came to mind.  
  


* * *

  
Jon gave sharp commands to the soldiers he was training, ignoring their groans of pain and pushing them well past their limits. . They hadn't become men of the Night's Watch just for the title. Their misery was made even worse by the grey skies and the wet snow. This endurance test was also one criterion to be met for the selection process of becoming a Ranger.  
  
  
The final test that he would supervise was scaling the length of the Wall with very minimal equipment. Despite signing papers so the military wasn’t held responsible in the possible event of their deaths, Jon still took his time to explain the dangers of what it was they were about to embark on. This course had cost lives before.  
  
  
"It's an exercise in energy management. Some of you are already exhausted. The hardest part is maintaining efficient technique in unpredictable situations which becomes more difficult the more tired you become. Some find it impossible to climb without stopping to shake circulation back into their hands. Think hard."  
  
  
Some soldiers had a rethink and decided that they didn't want to risk it. A few others started, but didn't go too far. The few that remained followed his lead. All Jon could see in his mind was the top of the Wall. Neither its freezing hardness nor its jagged edges nor the strong howling winds that threatened to pluck them off it and fling them away to their deaths deterred him.  
  
  
He felt buzz after buzz in his pocket which were signals sent to him when someone wanted to give up at some point or the other. Through the device in his ear which connected them all, he encouraged. He made it up there in four hours - an hour later than the last time he'd climbed the Wall - and waited another seven hours to account for the soldiers who started this with him. There was a medical emergency unit on standby to help those who might need it. Jon ended the day congratulating the men with a feast of combat rations - a rite of passage. He held back his laughter as he watched a few of the men grimace at the smell of the food. It was a special kind of terrible. When all that was done, he went back to his office to get another pair of uniform and then to the communal bath area for men of his ranking. Done with that, he spent the next two hours evaluating those who had taken part in his training, but not before keeping Missandei updated of his welfare. He didn't want her worrying about him.  
  
  
Jon took a break from that to look at messages that concerned the Others. There were several, but the most notable to him were from Daenerys. Quickly, he read through every unread message and responded to all of them formally, however, he still sent a private message to Daenerys to telling her the same thing in a less formal tone. A call came in from Brigadier General Mormont, after which, Jon called Daenerys. She picked his call not long after and his reaction was instant: alertness, a wave of increased energy in his heart and an all-round happiness.  
  
  
"Good evening, Jon," she said immediately. "I had a brief conversation with Brigadier General Mormont a little while ago and we skimmed through what you sent. It will need further clarification as you said," she told him, sounding like she would in any given meeting.  
  
  
"Affirmative. Good evening, Daenerys."  
  
  
"How soon can your men deliver? I'll need to resume working on that data as quickly as I can."  
  
  
"No later than tomorrow."  
  
  
"That’s good to know," her voice eased a little. "How was your climb?"  
  
  
"Poorer than my last performance," Jon told her, turning back to his screen to continue evaluating his soldiers. "I made it up there an hour later than the last time. I blame the food here."  
  
  
"More combat rations?" She sounded amused. "I tried those, by the way."  
  
  
Jon stopped typing. "After the stories I told you?" He shook his head, though he was smiling. "How bad was it?"  
  
  
"Bad," she said and he laughed. "A horse's heart is still worse."  
  
  
"Alright, you win. I'm still at the office. A little more work to do and I'll be done for the day."  
  
  
"How long will it take? It's dark already."  
  
  
He looked outside at the dark sky. "An hour more at least. I should be home no later than ten." Jon finished one evaluation and went on to the next.  
  
  
"Hm. Well, I should leave you to it."  
  
  
"I'm not complaining," he said.  
  
  
"I have my own deadlines to meet," she said amicably.  
  
  
Though the conversations between them had been comfortable since he reached out to her, it didn't mean the strain from before had disappeared, subtle, though it was.  
  
  
"What if I helped?" he asked.  
  
  
"At the risk of my reputation for perfect delivery? No."  
  
  
He grinned. "I'm meticulous."  
  
  
"At what you do." She played along.  
  
  
He sighed ruefully. "I can see there's no convincing you. I have to work on my skills of persuasion. Take care, Dany."  
  
  
"You as well."  
  


* * *

  
  
Jon arrived at the lodging where Daenerys stayed and parked outside the grounds. The snow had let up in the past few days, although the cold didn't seem to have gone anywhere. The tall pine trees that surrounded the place were covered in snow and they glistened in the moonlight. Talking about combat rations yet again had gotten him an invite for supper here with her. Since the invitation had come two days ago, his anticipation had only heightened with time. The guards of the lodging let him through the gates and Jon walked to her door. He knocked and she opened it to let him in.  
  
  
"Jon," she said, almost formally. Her smile was welcoming, yet careful.  
  
  
The contrast from the cold wind outside to the warmth in here prompted him to start unbuttoning his jacket. As he did that, Jon noticed everything he could about her at once including how she made him feel. It was new, yet familiar.  
  
  
"It's good to see you again."  
  
  
He was aware that even if things between them were relaxed now, Daenerys was still on her guard and it wasn't without good reason. But the thing was, he wasn't here because he wanted something from her: he wanted to do the right thing. By her and Missandei and himself. _So why am I here?_  
  
  
Same as the last time, he took off his shoes and placed them where they were supposed to be, following her into the main area.  
  
  
Though he'd observed the place when he first came here two weeks ago, it was today he registered everything more thoroughly. The place was luxe, but not elaborately decorated. Two other chairs were placed on either side of the main seating facing the large glass wall which, today, was a screen.  
  
  
"You have a thing for large screens, don't you?"

  
She shrugged a shoulder.  
  
  
A chandelier hung low from the ceiling. Lone baubles and artifacts were placed in different parts of the living area. The aroma of food coming from the kitchen made his mouth water.  
  
  
"I didn't know you could cook."  
  
  
"It's all courtesy of the lodging," she said.  
  
  
He took off his jacket and placed it on the main seating as she walked to the glass wall turned screen and placed her palm on it. Immediately, the screen became a transparent wall once again.  
  
  
Daenerys went on to prepare the table for both of them, but Jon didn't sit still: he went to help. When everything was primed and ready, they sat opposite each other. Jon began serving himself and looked up when she stood suddenly. Following her movements, he watched her take his jacket from the seating to hang it where coats were supposed to be hung.  
  
  
"This is an interesting take on the food found in this region," he said when she joined him again.  
  
  
"You don't like it?" she asked.  
  
  
"I do. I've just never had it this way before today."  
  
  
"Not even in Winterfell?"  
  
  
"Not even there. Has the North been good to you?"  
  
  
"It's a very insular place. Neither the Free Folk nor the Northmen take to strangers easily. It gives a new meaning to 'the cold North'."  
  
  
Jon chuckled and took a bite of the ox meat lathered in a paste that tasted faintly of garlic.  
  
  
"Has it always been this way?"  
  
  
"I believe so," he answered after he swallowed what he was chewing. "The North never fully integrated with the rest of the Seven Kingdoms and in recent years, the distrust has only grown more."  
  
  
"Does it have to do with secession?" she asked.  
  
  
"Yes, but that is only a fruit of a deeper unresolved issue."  
  
  
She looked at him expectantly.  
  
  
"Do you understand how Premier's are selected?"  
  
  
"Similarly to how the Sealords of Braavos are chosen. Each of the seven main families rules turn by turn."  
  
  
He nodded. "Each of those noble families has a patriarch, or a matriarch in the case of Dorne, where the head of that family rules the Seven Kingdoms until that person passes and then the mantle is passed to the next family. Around the time that Aerys Targaryen led his attack on the Seven Kingdoms, Luthor Tyrell was still in power, but his response was toothless and Tywin rose up to the occasion. After the victory, Tywin held onto power. There were murmurs, but it was still acceptable because of the part he played in restoring order. But when Luthor died and he refused to relinquish power, that began to cause a rift."  
  
  
"House Stark," she said. "Your father is supposed to rule now."  
  
  
"His brother was. Brandon Stark. He died during the war. My father was the next in line."  
  
  
"He's held in high esteem throughout the continent, especially here in the North."  
  
  
"He is an honourable man," Jon stated. "Many wanted – still want to see him take his rightful place, but he thinks the Iron Throne is cursed."  
  
  
"Cursed?"  
  
  
"People would do anything to sit on it. Not every patriarch or matriarch has lived to see old age. Even when the Targaryens ruled, the quest for power weakened them so much that they could be driven out."  
  
  
They ate quietly for the next few moments. "It's not always a bad thing," she said before taking another bite of the food.  
  
  
"What isn't? Power?"  
  
  
She took a sip of water. "Yes. How much good can anyone accomplish without a significant amount of power at his or her whim? Isn't that why your brother is pushing for secession as much as he is?"  
  
  
"Power is a tool that depends on the wielder," he said in partial agreement with her earlier assessment. "But without a counterbalance, it can destroy. Perhaps, not the wielder, but anyone who stands in their way. As for Robb, as long as Father remains the key to the North, he will curb his grievances."  
  
  
"What happens if your father decides he wants to rule?"  
  
  
"War. The Vale and the Riverlands will most assuredly go with him. The Stormlands might fight with him, but Robert Baratheon is fattened by Lannister gold as we speak."  
  
  
"I hear he has close ties with your family."  
  
  
"He's my father's best friend." He put some more food on his plate; it was the best thing he'd had in weeks. "They've been trying to do the same thing with Lord Stark."  
  
  
"To court him?"  
  
  
"Aye," he said. "When father refused the betrothals of any of the girls to the Tywin Lannister's grandchildren, they turned their focus on Robb."  
  
  
"With Jeyne Westerling as the bridge? Those ties wouldn't be strong enough unlike Mycerlla, perhaps?" When Jon didn't say anything, she raised her eyebrows in surprise.  
  
  
"Left to Robert, Joffery would wed Sansa, Robb Mycerlla, and Arya Tommen," he said and took another bite of his food.  
  
  
Daenerys laughed. "That's actually not a bad plan from House Lannister."  
  
  
Jon swallowed what he was chewing before he answered, "It's more sentimental than tactical on Robert's part. If there are strings pulling him - and there are - it would be brilliant if successful."  
  
  
"But that won't happen."  
  
  
"Never. Robb can't be used as a cyvasse piece. He might not yet be as influential as my father is, but his following, outside of my father's, is growing." He took a sip of water. "Especially here in the North. He might have spent most of his formative years in the Riverlands, but he has the North in him. Enough to become a worry if he decides to rally troops."  
  
  
"They'd follow him against your father's command?"  
  
  
"No. But they would listen and it only takes one spark to light a fire. Tywin's strategy is to put out the hopes of lighting that fire and since he can't suppress Robb as easily as he would a lesser lord or someone not of noble blood, he's trying to lure him instead. If a marriage alliance won't work, then perhaps a seat on the Small Council."  
  
  
"Tywin is a brilliant strategist, I must say," Dany said. "But he holds the might of the military. What if he uses it against the North?"  
  
  
"If every soldier was from the Westerlands, then maybe he would have, but if he goes against the North, the Seven Kingdoms will suffer severely. It's a war that could last for years and who would that benefit?"  
  
  
"What if it does happen? Who will you fight for?" She passed him a helping of the baked apples.  
  
  
He took a moment to examine the probable situation. The answer he was expected to give as a good soldier was the Seven Kingdoms and as a good son, the North, but they had a greater enemy to fight and his vows had been to protect the realms of men. "When it comes down to it, our vows, training, and reasons to live are geared towards preserving life. Should that time ever come, I will stand by those vows. We might all be under his rulership, but we don't serve Tywin. We serve the people of the Seven Kingdoms."  
  
  
"So, not against your father?"  
  
  
"Not against my vows," he corrected.  
  
  
The corners of her mouth upturned slightly at his answer and he felt his heart pulsate irregularly. An answer to why he'd come here finally came to him: he wanted to be seen as he was. Not as his previous actions might have affected her perception of him. It was important to Jon to correct any wrong notions she might have gotten of him and this was all because he had fallen in love with her.  
  
  
He exhaled.  
  
  
"Difficult question?" she asked.  
  
  
"Coming to terms with the answer," he said vaguely. "Right now, the only possible war anyone should think of is the war against the Others."  
  
  
"Yes. It's been interesting working with the Northern army and the Free Folk." Her utensils clinked against her plate when she dropped them and picked up a linen to wipe her mouth. "There's already speculation and criticism of your father's involvement in helping the Free Folk."  
  
  
"You can't please everyone."  
  
  
"Westeros is fascinating. Geographically and politically. A landscape of ice to the far north and to the southernmost part, a desert."  
  
  
"Diverse customs and diverse laws. You'd think you're in another world when you visit Dorne. It's quite different from the rest of the south."  
  
  
"What's it like?"  
  
  
"Free. Ashara took me to visit a few times."  
  
  
"Are you close with her people?"  
  
  
"No, but the foundation that type of relationship exists because of the times I spent there as a boy."  
  
  
"Do you...," he waited for her to continue, "think about your birth mother?"  
  
  
Jon took his time to answer that question. "Before Ashara, I did. A lot. My father has never really been forthcoming about it so I assume she's dead. I always wanted a mother as child. I had that with Ashara."  
  
  
"I'm sorry for asking."  
  
  
"You shouldn't be," he said, willing to share these things with her.  
  
  
"I never met my mother," she confided. "She died giving birth to me."  
  
  
"Did your father tell you about her?"  
  
  
"A little, but most of what I know about her is from Viserys."  
  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
  
A painful smile flashed across her face and she nodded. When they were don't eating, they tidied up and settled in the living area.  
  
  
"This is a beautiful place," he said admiringly as he looked around, walking to join her on the seating. When he did, she shifted a little. "That was a really good meal, thank you." He watched her look away from him and into the content of her glass. Turning his wrist, he checked the time and was surprised to find that it was close to midnight. "It's been a great night," he said, getting to his feet.  
  
  
She followed suit. They walked to the door and stood there after he put on his boots and his jacket.  
  
  
"Thank you for coming," she said.  
  
  
Jon bent his head to kiss her on her cheek. "Good night, Dany."

"Good night." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. I'd love to hear from you: your thoughts, etc.


	15. Chapter 15

**DAENERYS**

Daenerys came down from the aircraft and acknowledged the soldiers that sent greetings her way as she walked with those who had been sent to escort her to where she was supposed to be. Snow, the purest white she'd ever seen, fell infinitely and repetitiously, making the hard grounds of Castle Black soft underfoot. While the cold she'd felt at Winterfell had some pleasantness to it, here, this far up north, it was bitter on its worst days. 

A meeting was being held because of the latest events that were unfolding Beyond the Wall. More and more, her AI was predicting attacks on a settlement by the great river Beyond the Wall called the Milkwater. But that wasn't all, there were alarms raised by Northern intelligence and certain Free Folk of a possible invasion of Hardhome - a major Free Folk settlement. She made it inside the building and walked briskly to the elevator that would take her to the floor where the meeting was taking place. 

It always stuck out to her how the interior parts of these very old buildings differed vastly from what was without. Nonetheless, it had all the markings of what one would expect of a military base, but rather than the sigils and coats of arms she'd seen elsewhere, everything was almost unanimously black here. 

Finally at her destination, Daenerys opened the door to see a room full of military personnel and an older man, who bore a striking resemblance to Jon Snow, presiding over it. _Eddard Stark_ , she thought immediately. 

The few people present looked at her as she entered in and took her seat, but her eyes were trained on Lord Stark. Perhaps, it was the surprise of seeing him that made her feel differently than she expected to feel meeting him for the first time. It didn't take long for her defenses to kick in, however. 

"Miss Stormborn," he greeted in a very thick northern accent and with a well meaning, but solemn smile. 

"Lord Stark," she returned and took the seat where her name was placed on the table. 

"It appears we're both very early. It's good to finally meet you and thank you for all your good work in person." 

"It's what I'm paid to do," she said politely and matter-of-factly.

"Such a job well done is worth its weight in gold. The North remembers." After a moment, he said suddenly, staring at her peculiarly, "You're from Meereen."

"Braavos," she said. "My mother was from Lys," she added as if to explain her looks, though she was sure he'd read reports about her background. 

A northern soldier stepped beside him just then to whisper something in his ear and he nodded. As that went on, Daenerys observed him. She'd seen pictures and videos of him, but it was quite different seeing him now. The more Daenerys studied him, the more she was reminded of what he did to her family and it was then she felt certain embers of anger, but even then, there was something else that seemed to hinder that anger from flaring to its mightiest extent. _He's Jon's father._ She could lie to herself now, but that fact meant a lot more than she wanted it to mean. She deliberately ignored anything that closely examined her present state with Jon. 

Soon, people began to fill the room, one of them being Jon who observed the military routine of greeting his superiors, starting with his father. When all was done, he cast a smile her way and she clenched her hand into a fist and tried to ignore how sporadic her heartbeat had become. 

The meeting commenced and everyone present contributed to it. Ideas flew around and some discussions grew heated.

When someone questioned her work, she said, "AI doesn't have any human judgement. It shouldn't be treated as though it does."

"What is the next death toll by your AI's estimation?" Lord Stark asked her. 

"Between fifty and hundred at most," she said. 

"Even with your predictions?" someone else asked. "Aren't they there to stop casualties?"

"The Free Folk are a stubborn people. Many of them aren't going to leave," Jon said. "We have the information we need to be forewarned. What is left for us to do is to contain the attack if we can't stop it and not let it get past a certain point."

"How can we stop this for good? The death toll will keep mounting. The Night King doesn't seem to want any incentives. He just wants to kill," someone said. 

"We need to take out the head," Lord Stark said and everyone agreed. 

Another bout of thinking and planning began. Everywhere she'd been to in the North, the Stark name was reverred, but it was quite another thing witnessing Eddard Stark in action. It was either he was truly a man of upstanding morals or this was all in pretence. 

"What if it backfires?" she asked out of the blue. After all, unbeknownst to them, a Targaryen was in their midst and could use all this against them for all they knew. It was then that Daenerys truly felt the danger of being here. It would only take a little mistake for everything to fall apart and should that happen, it wouldn't matter that was truly here to help, she would be demanded to face consequences. "What if the Others retaliate? They're extremely loyal. Ripple effects. Like tossing a pebble into a pond, change creates ripples, reaching distant spots in ever-widening circles. The ripples disrupt other people well outside the intended venture, and they start to push back, rebelling against changes that interfere with what they know."

Lord Stark gave her a scrutinizing look. "A new leader will emerge, but they will be weakened considerably and then we will work to minimize any disruptions that might cause."

"I think we should look beyond that, Lord Stark," Jon said, catching on to her line of thought. "The Others have been as successful as they have because their plans look like they've been in the making for a very long time."

The lines in Lord Stark's forehead creased deeply as he pondered quietly before he nodded. 

After that, they discussed all the ways that they could bring down the Night King as well as look into as many potential effects of that as they possibly could. It went well into the late afternoon until the meeting was concluded. 

Lord Stark, who had signalled for Jon to walk with him, was the first to leave, alongside his soldiers and Northern officials. Others followed. Daenerys waited until most of the people had thronged out before she began to leave. 

* * *

The lights blazed in the silent sky. They moved in great swaying bands of colour like they were alive. On some nights they would resemble the swirl of a nascent rose that had begun to open, but tonight it was a great river of green lines flowing between the sky and the ground. The colours were utterly brilliant and pure. 

Daenerys stood at the top of the Wall, close to one of the warming stations the soldiers used when they stood as watchmen here. It was heavily guarded up here, but some of them had been kinda enough to let her be by herself in this space. 

After the meeting, she'd managed to get a little food and had wound up here after a brief exploration of the structure below. Away from the curious stares and whispers that followed her around since she'd come to the Castle Black. At least in Castle Greenguard, the people there had started getting used to her presence. It wasn't new, the curiosity about her, but on this particular day, she wanted away from it. 

The vibrant shades of colours in the sky shifted again, reminding her of why she'd come up here. It was like nothing she'd ever seen. She stood there admiring the beautiful sight and soon she heard footsteps approach her. She turned to see Jon walking towards her with a satchel in one hand and a bottle of water in another. All the things she felt whenever she was around him were jolted awake in her. He slowed down to a stop when she saw him. 

"I didn't think you'd had anything to eat," he said and resumed approaching her until he was beside her. "One of the soldiers assigned to escort you informed me of your whereabouts," he explained, placing the bottle on the ice barrier of the Wall. Then he faced her. 

Something had changed with him. He'd been this way since she'd come to the Wall. At first, she thought it had to do with all that he was dealing with personally, but it seemed to go beyond that. Almost like the first instances of their friendship, but different somehow. It still wasn't something she wanted to overthink.

"What did you bring?" she asked, accepting his offerings.

He took out a bowl of some broth and a thick slice of bread. Daenerys took them from him. Her stomach rumbled when she opened it. It was a simple looking meal, but it smelled flavourful. Her eyes widened when she tasted it. "This is really good," she said, after a few bites of bread dipped in the soup. 

"I made it."

She gave him a skeptical look and he laughed. 

"It's true." He shrugged. "I had to learn how to on missions and watching Missandei polished my skills." He ended the statement like he felt he should have thought better than bringing her up. 

It had become a sort of unspoken rule between them not to bring up his wife when they were together, but that was before she'd asked put an end to what had been. She liked to think things had truly changed for the better, but the fact that nothing could be undone made her uneasy whenever those thoughts pervaded her consciousness.

"My father likes you," Jon said, seemingly undeterred. 

"Does he?"

Jon nodded and turned to look at the swirling lights. 

"That's good to hear," she said, her breath forming a fog which accompanied her words. 

It was strange talking about the man who might have possibly killed her father, but also happened to raise the man she was in love with. Was the latter why she wasn't nearly as angry with Eddard Stark as she had imagined she would be? Was that why hearing from Jon what his approval of her almost felt like acceptance? _You're not Missandei_ , she reminded herself. She wasn't his wife. 

Jon's change in behaviour, she couldn't pin on merely wanting sex. He'd been to her lodging twice, one of those times on invitation, and all he seemed to seek out was her company. Perhaps, her judgement was misguided and she had a poor perception of things. But even at that, this change didn't mean that they had to be friendly like he was being. Before now, they had forged a way of working together without being close and had also found a way to pretend that they were for the sake of their friends, so why this? 

"What is it?" he asked in a low voice. 

"Nothing." She shook her head slightly and continued eating. The soup had gotten lukewarm now. 

"Do you know the story behind these lights?" he asked, changing the subject. 

"No," she said and took a drink from the bottle he'd brought. It was hot, but not scalding. It was sweet to taste and held the hint of some herbs she could not name.

"Neither do I," he said and for the first time that day, she really laughed. 

Jon grinned. 

When her laughter eased, she said, "It's really beautiful."

"Aye, it is. It's no wonder some Free Folk would rather die out there than _cower in the guise of safety_. The exact words an elder said to me," he told her. 

"What about those of them who have agreed to become part of the North?"

"They're swore an oath before the old gods."

"Will they keep it?"

"It's sacred and they're devout."

"Hm," she said and began to pack the empty near bowl back into the satchel. 

"They're not the problem. The south is," Jon said, taking over from her and putting everything back in the satchel.

Daenerys looked around them. They were a good distance away from the nearest soldiers and shrouded in enough darkness to keep them away from any curious eyes. But Jon must have known that to speak so freely.

"Some on the Small Council want them distributed even further south to ensure that their loyalties lie with the Seven Kingdoms and not the North."

"So, why aren't any other representatives from Great Houses here helping?" she asked. 

"The answer is anyone's guess. It's not like the Free Folk would be accepted. The North is still seen as less civilized and the closest thing we have to the Free Folk - the Vale Clans - are treated even worse."

"What is Tywin saying?"

"Nothing, based on all the accounts I've heard."

"His silence should be taken more seriously than anything anyone on his council is saying."

"Aye."

She'd noticed that his northern accent had become more pronounced the longer he stayed here. Against her will, it was a trait that she found rather endearing.

The discussion branched out into other things until they talked about what it entailed to be a revolutionary. 

"Revolutionaries aren't always good leaders," Jon said. 

"Mm...I disagree slightly. To be a revolutionary, one has to be a leader. What they aren't always is good administrators. Many are visionaries, but without long term plans.

"Oh, they have long term plans, else they wouldn't be visionaries. It's the goals along the way: achieving the smaller things that make up the whole."

"I think you're right."

"You agree?" Jon asked. "That was easier than I'm used to."

Dany narrowed her eyes a little, but smiled. "I'm not unreasonable." On their discussion, she said, "People who want to change the world have grandiose plans. Sometimes, with so much single focus that it makes them blind to other areas and rigid in their stance."

"Why do you think that is?" he asked.

"Maybe making so many sacrifices to realize those visions makes them guard their ideals jealously."

"Is the greater good not worth the sacrifice of ego?"

"It might be a price too high for some," she remarked.

"A price too high for the Night King, maybe. Ego might be his downfall."

"You think him a revolutionary?"

"That might be his motive except that it's being weaponized destructively."

"That...might actually be true," she said, and patted her hair down. "Have you ever thought of what you'd do after you retire from the military? You'd make a good statesman."

Jon scoffed. 

"Jon, you're good at this."

"Never," he said, answering her initial question. "That's Robb. Not me."

Her watch buzzed. She looked at the time: it was the morning of a new day. Daenerys tapped the side of her watch and it projected that the air craft taking her back to her base was almost ready for departure. When she raised her head, her eyes met Jon's. 

"I'll be going to Winterfell later today," he informed her. "There are still some treaties to see to. I'll be there for a few days at least."

Daenerys nodded. "Thank you for supper."

"I'm glad you liked it," he said. "I'll let you know when I'm back at the Wall," he told her. "Get home safely," he said gently and they parted ways shortly after. 

**JON**

They didn't return to Winterfell until the next day because Lord Stark had another round of meetings. It wasn't until it was late at night that they flew back. They were being driven on their way to Winterfell now amidst the customary train of vehicles that followed his father around. 

Jon rubbed his temples and exhaled tiredly. 

"Here, have this," Lord Stark, who was seated opposite him, said offering him some hard liquor. 

Jon thanked him and made to drink it. He turned his nose at the pungent smell and grimaced when took a sip from it. Two full glasses of this and a giant would be knocked unconscious. 

"What is this?" he asked.

"The Night King's piss for all I know."

Jon laughed and took another sip. 

"It was a gift from Lord Cerwyn. He says it's from Braavos."

"Hm," Jon said and tapped the glass idly with his finger.

"I have a strong feeling about our chances with the Night King," his father said. 

"Good or bad?" he asked. 

"Good. Even the best weapons against the realm are useless if we have the gift of foresight."

"Daenerys," Jon said.

"Aye. Her work gives us an advantage," his father stated. "She's made a name for herself," he said after a little while.

"Mm," Jon said.

"Who should we thank for suggesting her services?"

"Missandei. She's Missandei's friend," Jon said. 

"Yours as well."

"She is," Jon said guardedly, sparing his father a glance. He stared ahead momentarily and then at the drink in his hand, swirling it around before lifting the glass to his mouth.

"A very good friend from the looks of it," his father said.

He paused with the glass halfway to his mouth and brought it back down. "Aye, she is," he said carefully. He looked at his father who was watching him closely. 

"She's a very beautiful woman and sometimes...men...could--"

"I'm happy with Missandei." He wasn't a child in need of guidance.

"I saw you both at the top of the Wall," his father said, finally revealing what it was that he really wanted to say. "You were not as hidden from sight as you thought."

"I wasn't trying to hide because there's nothing to hide," Jon said calmly and went back to taking small sips of his drink. 

His father sighed after a long silence and said, "I'm not accusing you of anything nor am even I judging you, I'm just asking you to be careful. I understand the appeal and the allure of looking outside of your marriage, but beautiful women come and go. Missandei is a good one and what you have with her is uncommon in many marriages. Don't take it for granted." He patted Jon on the knee.

Jon looked straight ahead and took one last sip of the drink. He felt the urge to come to Daenerys' defense, but he kept silent instead. She wasn't just anyone to him. 

He held back a sigh. A part of him wanted to ask his father how to deal with loving two women at the same time - if anyone had the answer, it was Ned Stark - but he couldn't give himself away more than he already had. 

It was a very rare occurrence, but in this moment, he felt closed in within the confines of the vehicle. He was fatigued beyond measure. There were too many things on his mind and a mountain of a challenge that needed addressing, but right now all he wanted was a warm bath, a good sleep, and a clear head to think. 

* * *

The last two days in Winterfell had done him a world of good. After three days of more negotiations, he finally had some time to himself. He was refreshed and in another day or two, he'd return to the Wall. 

Jon dusted his boyhood belongings and continued separating them into different piles. He was sorting through a trunk when he picked up an old video game. He smiled at the memories they brought: so many tourneys against Robb, Arya, and occasionally, Ashara. Immediately, he thought of Daenerys and what she might think of it: if she'd be as good a player as she thought she was at such games. This was one of the many things in his life he wanted her to be a part of, but Jon was watchful of himself. He had a wife whose commitment to him was as reliable as snowfall on a cold winter's day. An uninvited thought slithered into his mind: what if Catelyn had once been as idealistic and as open-hearted as Missandei was. How much damage had his father's actions caused?

* * *

During time his in Winterfell, one way or the other, it had gotten to the point where, without necessarily planning to, sometimes, he'd keep her abreast of his day. Something would happen, and he'd find himself either sending her a message about it or asking for her thoughts on whatever it was that happened. 

That was how he wound up in her place tonight. On his way back from Winterfell, he'd told her he was coming back to the Wall, asked her about her day, and ended up describing the game which piqued her curiosity. It all led him here. To her doorstep. Again. 

"Jon," she said and let him in. That reserve was still present, even in her smile. "Welcome back. How was your journey?"

"Long," Jon said. He'd come here straight after he landed because he hadn't wanted to delay seeing her.

"Tiring?"

"A little," he said. 

"Is that it?" she asked and he handed her the case where he'd placed the game in. 

"Aye," he said, following the now familiar ritual of taking off his snow-caked shoes and placing them where they were supposed to be. 

They went into the living area and Daenerys sat on the floor, trying to understand what it was she was looking at. Jon crouched beside her and together, they worked to connect it to the screen. When they found the model incompatible with the screen, a technician was called in to sort it out. Some time later, they were seated beside each other with consoles in their hands. 

Jon began teaching her what to do and when she started following through, they played against each other. Time to time, he'd look at her and to see her knit her brows in concentration. Gradually, the competitiveness came in. That was when Jon put in more effort. He'd been less about challenging her and more about teaching her before now. 

He beat her every time, but with each try, she got better. The next time they tried, she barely managed to beat him. 

"You didn't let me win, did you?" she turned to ask him. 

"No." He shook his head, smiling when she smirked a little. 

"Let's try this again," she said.

This one was tougher for her.

"Do you know what I've noticed?" he asked and she looked up at him. "The storyline of the game bears some similarities between what's happening between the North and Free Folk."

"It does," she agreed. "I wonder, are they resentful that they've been separated from the Seven Kingdoms all these years?"

"If they are, I understand why."

"Are they different from the mountain clans?" she asked. 

"Which?"

From the corner of his eye, he saw her pause to look at him. "How many are there?"

"Several and they're either in the Vale or in the North."

"I didn't know that. I meant the ones in the Vale."

Jon won this time, but Daenerys was more interested in what they were talking about.

"We're all children of the First Men: the Free Folk, the North, and the Mountain clans of the Vale. The mountain clans are descended from the First Men who refused to surrender to the Andals when they invaded the Seven Kingdoms. Like the North."

Daenerys wanted to learn more, so he abated her curiousity. They talked on other things, with Jon having questions of his own. About the different places she'd been to. The conversation went on, but Jon didn't go back to playing to the game, rather he left her to it. Both of them had taken to the floor with their backs rested against the seating. He was lounged lazily with one knee raised and his other leg stretched out and it took him a little time to fall asleep in that position. 

* * *

He felt hair on his arm and opened his eyes to see Daenerys' head placed between his shoulder and his chest in a way that made him know she hadn't meant to fall asleep against his body. He checked the time and wasn't surprised to find out how late it was. Gently, he rubbed her arm until she stirred awake and sat up heavy-eyed. 

"I'm sorry I had to wake you," he said as she rubbed her neck and winced.

She rubbed her face and exhaled. "I'm a little hungry," she said shortly after. "Are you?"

The pang of hunger he felt reminded him that he'd not had anything to eat for most of the day. "More than a little hungry."

Jon took note not to leave his coat on the seating next time he visited as he watched her take it to hang it where it was supposed to be. 

When she began to call the staff of the place to order for some food, he stopped her. "What do you have available? I could make something quickly."

"You don't mind?"

"No." He stood and walked towards the kitchen. "What do you have?"

After Daenerys opened showed him around and through the storage, Jon took what he needed and began preparation. As he was cutting and slicing she stood close to him. Observing what he was doing. 

Jon wiped his hands and began heat up the stove.

She closed her eyes and sniffed. "That is a wonderful smell." She opened her eyes. 

"Thank you." He didn't think that much of his cooking skills, but it was pleasing to see her react this way. Jon felt a slight ache in his head and some parts of his body.

"Do you need anything?"

He turned his head in her direction. "For?"

"Whatever is causing you pain."

He smiled. "Just a little rest."

Eventually, everything was ready to eat, they sat in the dining area. It was a simple enough meal and in no time, everything was consumed. Afterwards, they cleaned and went back to the living area. This time, they were on the seating, facing each other. 

When he checked his watch again, she said quietly, "You don't have to leave yet if you don't want to."

That caught him off guard. "Are you sure?" he asked after a few seconds. 

She looked a little uncertain, but there was less reserve from her than what he'd been met with when he first came here. 

Jon drew nearer to her and when he was as close as he wanted, he pulled her towards his body, moving them until they were both laying on the seating, face to face. The seating was large enough that there could still be a little space between them. 

He didn't know how long they just stared at each other. She was truly beautiful. 

"It's shorter," he murmured. Daenerys knitted her brows and on reached around her to lift the tip of her braid. "Your hair. Did you do something to it?"

There was a flash of surprise on her face. "I barely trimmed it."

"Hm." Gods knew he wanted to kiss her. But he didn't. When it came to Daenerys on this particular matter, he'd never held back on his intentions, but it had come with a price. 

Jon began to work his fingers to loosen the braid. Slowly. His father's advice snuck its way into his head. Jon didn't push the thoughts aside, but reviewed them instead, stilling his fingers when they brushed against her back and she grew tense. 

His physical attraction to her was very much intact. If anything, the time apart had only served to strengthen it, but this was more than that, wasn't it? Contrary to what Lord Stark might think, Daenerys wasn't an itch to scratch. She wasn't a phase. What was the right way to describe what she meant to him?

Jon carried on loosening her braid, combing his fingers through her hair. He continued until all her hair was loose. Daenerys' hand had come to his waist now, but she withdrew it. Jon watched her hesitate before placing it on his face. He almost felt removed from himself: logically analyzing his physical responses, starting from his heart rate. She closed her eyes, withdrawing her hand again.

_Safe_. That was the word his mind had been searching for. It was a word that felt like home. It also felt like a betrayal to his wife. Yes, he loved his wife and while his relationship with almost everyone in his life compelled him to want to keep them safe, Daenerys made him feel safe. 

His father's words still stayed with him, especially the advocacy for his wife. Lord Stark was right with every praise he gave Missandei. Jon didn't ever want to hurt her, let alone with Daenerys, but he'd towed the path - intentionally - and now...

Though her eyes were closed and her breathing slower, he could tell Daenerys was still awake. Not for long, perhaps. As all those thoughts were going through his mind, her hand came on his waist again. This time, she slipped her hand beneath the layers of clothes he had on and spread her palm against his side. Jon didn't do anything beyond toy with her hair. 

It took them some time, but they fell asleep eventually. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read the end note.

**DAENERYS**

The sky was tar-black and the large clouds were moving towards the building she was in. Daenerys heard a tapping on the window and then it became a patter. People ran for cover outside and umbrellas were opened as the clouds released beads of rain. Her plan had been to return to King's Landing today, but from the look of things, she was going to cancel her flight and spend the night in the Stormlands. A private meeting had brought her here, but it had been short enough that there had been no need to arrange for a reservation in advance. Daenerys contemplated waiting to see how favourable or unfavourable the weather would be in the next hour so she could decide if she would stay or leave. 

While she was deliberating on that, her phone indicated that she had just gotten a message. It was from Jon. 

  
_**Jon** : How're you? _

Daenerys exhaled a little, conscious of the meld of different feelings she was experiencing at the same time. While she did feel anticipation, it was constrained by a certain level of wavering. She loved Jon, it wasn't something she could wish away. All that time apart hadn't changed it, but at least her decision to discontinue their relations had given her back a sense of control. With the way things were changing - because of all that had transpired at the Wall in the five weeks she'd spent there - she didn't know how much longer that would last. 

_**Jon** : Dany? _

_**Jon** : If you're busy now I could reach you later. _

_**Dany** : I'm _

She sent that incomplete message by mistake.

_**Jon** : Busy?_

_**Dany** : No. _

_**Jon** : Is it alright to call?_

_**Dany** : It is. _

He called her right after and she picked his call. 

"How're you?" he asked. 

"I'm well. How about you?"

"Eager for field work. I'm convinced being stuck in an office for days on end is one of the seven hells."

That drew a smile from Daenerys. "How much longer do you have to be there today?"

"It depends on how quickly I go through all these files and reports."

"Can you take a little time away from it to unwind?"

"That's what I'm doing now. What time do you fly back to King's Landing?"

"It's supposed to be about forty minutes from now, but I don't think I'll make it back there today. The rain here doesn't seem to be going away any time soon."

"I forgot to mention that about the Stormlands."

"It's just a mild inconvenience, nothing more. I'll probably spend the night here."

"That's good. An improvement from the cold at the Wall, maybe?"

As far as the weather conditions went, she couldn't decide, especially with the more extreme cases, but that was where the comparison ended. She actually missed being stationed at the Wall and the solitude it provided. She recalled her last night there. Jon had visited again. After that very night, the one where she gave him an open invitation to stay for the night, similar nights had happened a few more times. It had been about solace for her and though she couldn't speak for him, it seemed to be the same reason for him because aroused as they'd both been - particularly on the last night - nothing sexual had happened. Not even a kiss.

"Are you alright?" he asked quietly.

"I'm not sure."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

She wouldn't even know what to say. A part of her would've liked to pretend that this rekindling closeness didn't have a predictable outcome, but that would be self-deceit. Daenerys knew that moving forward, the choice to further this along was one that would come with pain. She loved Jon. Jon loved Missandei as devotedly as she deserved to be loved. And no matter that he was different with her now, Daenerys knew she couldn't let herself read any meaning to his actions towards her. But weren't his actions why she was growing used to expecting hearing about his day and all the other things he liked to tell her? 

When she didn't give him an answer, he didn't pursue it. Instead, he spoke to her about what he'd done since morning. This ritual was becoming something she looked forward to. 

"Tomorrow is supposed to be free, but there's some maintenance work that needs doing."

"Did you volunteer?" she asked. As she got to know him better, she knew it was the sort of thing he would do. 

He chuckled. "They don't have enough hands."

"Mm."

"My free time is up. Let me know what you decide. If you get to King's Landing today, please keep me informed."

"I will."

The call ended soon after and she began to make arrangements on what next to do. It so happened that the rain subsided, but she didn't get home until much later that day. She let Jon know when she arrived and when she was settling in, Missandei called. They spoke for quite a while. In that time, Daenerys felt an unexplainable strangeness, a falsehood on her part. Missandei was the most constant person in her life, but here she was besmirching that loyalty. She liked to think her relationship with Missandei was something that she would go any length to protect, but it bothered her that despite that belief, it was becoming easier to accommodate her guilt regarding the nature of her closeness with Jon.

  


**JON**

Straight from the airport, he drove to the base and went to work immediately. Missandei had been ready to pick him up, but he'd dissuaded her. Daenerys had been unreachable, but he left her a message. The day got so filled with duties that he didn't have time to do anything else until he got back home. There, Missandei had prepared specially for his return. He spent the rest of the evening with her, from the meal to their bed to the private moments after where they caught up. When she fell asleep, he took his phone and left the room. He went to the living area and checked his phone. Daenerys had replied hours ago. Jon sent another message and waited. When nothing came after a long time, he went to bed. 

The next morning, he saw a message from Daenerys, but he didn't see her until the close of day. When he asked if she was still at work and she affirmed it, he went to her office. There were a few members of her workforce, but they were preparing to leave. He exchanged pleasantries with them. It was unusual for him to be here, but he knew no one would think it out of the ordinary because of the amount of times he and Daenerys had to work together. Jon only went on to knock on her door when she was informed that he was there to see her. 

"Come in," she said from the other side of the door. 

Jon pushed open the door and closed it as soon as he was in. A smile stretched across his face and she responded in kind, though hers was tentative as she invited him to join her. Jon took the seat across from her. "You're a very hard person to get a hold of," he said. 

"I'm sorry. It's not been intentional."

He understood. She tapped the table with her fingers, a sign that showed she was nervous. In a way, being back in King's Landing served as a douse of reality: it bore all the reminders of the things that caused them problems before. He hoped the time spent together at the Wall had gone some way in easing that. Everything she did from the moment he'd told her about Ashara bespoke how careful she was around him, even when she tried to let herself be. 

"How far have you gone with discovering new patterns about the others?" As he knew it would, her love for what she did shone through as she began to tell him about it. 

Jon listened and paid attention when she began a small exhibition. His phone vibrated and he checked to see that it was a message from Missandei. She wanted to meet him now. He'd been away for so long and he had missed her a lot, but he wanted to spend some time here with Daenerys if only for a little longer. A self-deprecating huff of amusement escaped him. Daenerys looked questioningly at him and he shook his head. 

"Really interesting as always, but I don't think I can take in any more information without some food." He stood to his feet and so did she. "Thank you."

She inclined her head and pushed her braid away from her shoulder. Daenerys walked him to the door. When they stopped by the door, Jon faced her. He kept an ear on all that was happening outside her door and when he was sure the last person had left, he stretched out his hand to hold hers. 

"It's good to see you," he said. He trailed his fingers along the side of her face with his other hand, then he let go of her. "Have a good evening." Jon opened the door and let himself out. 

After all was said and done for the day, he went through his messages. He purposely left Daenerys' unattended until he was done with everything else, then he checked hers. Just two messages, but they were to keep him up to speed of how the rest of her day went. Since they'd begun their unstated reconciliation, usually, if such messages came at all, they were more a thing of reciprocity: where she only did so because he asked or because he first kept her abreast of things in his life. Jon smiled and sent his own message before going to sleep. 

* * *

The garden visits had resumed unexpectedly. One day, after a session with his unit, she spoke about the caretakers of the place commissioning a new addition to the garden and asked if he'd be there. He took it as an invitation. They, and many others regular visitors of the place, were in attendance and after that, Daenerys stole away, but he'd known where to find her and find her, he had. After that, the visits there, though not as frequent as they had been in the past, were on their way to becoming so. This time around, it was more geared towards official work, though it couldn't be denied that they came for each other's company. Sometimes, they would spend their time there just talking. Like today where the discussion was about what was going on north of the Wall. 

"When hate is what unites you, it won't take long for you to be torn apart by the same common ground."

"I really don't think that can be said of the Others," Jon said. "Yes, they hate anyone who isn't brainwashed by their ideology, whatever that may be, but they're too united for it to just be hate. There's not even a single case of defection. It's rare."

"Perhaps, there's something to be learnt from the leadership of the Night King. He has to be doing something right to command that much devotion from so many people. They're rumoured to be in the millions."

"An exaggeration." 

"Really?"

He nodded. "But they're growing rapidly so it might only be a matter of time."

"Maybe it's the lands that the Free Folk holds which the Night King covets. The land around Wall itself holds so much potential. I'm thinking of acquiring some land there."

"You liked it that much?"

She shrugged a shoulder slightly. "It stung to breathe sometimes, but it felt so removed from the business of everything here that I'm considering it."

"You should see more places in the North," he said. "It's almost half the size of the entire continent."

"I'd like to see the Reach and Dorne."

"Do you know of the Dornish Marches?"

"Yes. Land that the Reach and Dorne have in common."

"The Stormlands as well."

"From what I hear of the Reach, it sounds similar to Qarth. Dorne almost sounds like Meereen."

They compared and contrasted their shared knowledge of both places and when the conversation tapered off, they went back to working in comfortable silence. Some time later, the sun disappeared, indicating that it was time to leave. 

When both of them were done packing their things, Jon began to leave, but stopped when he saw Daenerys hadn't moved with him. He turned around and she spoke then. "Would you...see me home?" 

Jon knew what that meant - he understood what her words implied - fuck, he wanted it too, but he didn't want anything to make her retreat from him again, so he asked, "Is that what you want?"

"Yes."

Jon nodded and they walked together until they had to go to their respective vehicles. When Jon drove out of the botanical garden, he saw that Daenerys waited to see his vehicle before she began driving.

Jon tailed her vehicle as his mind kept on the situation at hand. He'd sent a message to Missandei to let her know he'd be coming in late. The stir and urgency of the city roads were eventually replaced with the thickets of thorny shrubs, flower beds, cultured lawns, and the summer greenness that this part of King's Landing was known for. In a short while, her manse came into sight. Jon parked behind her and waited until she got out of her vehicle. She looked back him, her chest rose and fell and she squeezed her hands anxiously, but her eyes spoke the most of her decision. When she began walking up the steps, he opened his own door and followed. She made it in before he started climbing the steps, but the door had been left partly open for him. Jon entered in and shut the door.

**DAENERYS**

She made it to her bedroom and was in the verge of going back on her decision when he pushed open the door to her bedroom gently. Daenerys' heart beat like it was trying to escape from her chest. Wordlessly, he walked to meet her and stood in front of her, his eyes were serious. It wasn't too late to stop this, but her own hands betrayed her when they reached for his waist. 

Jon placed his hands on her forearms and pulled her close. He lowered his head and brushed his lips against hers. He rubbed her arms and her back gently until she was less tense and then coaxed her mouth open with his tongue. Soft sounds escaped her the deeper the kiss became. His hands began to travel the length of her upper body and he brought them forward to hold her breasts.

He broke apart from the kiss, looking at her with dark, lustful eyes; his breath blowing hot on her face. Jon bent his head again, this time, to her neck as he ran the back of his fingers repeatedly against her nipples, lightly clasping them between his knuckles along the way. One of her hands was buried in his hair and the other, moving his uniform upwards so she could feel the skin on his chest. Jon slipped both of his hands beneath her clothing to cup her buttocks. He squeezed and pressed himself closer, gripping her neck with his teeth before withdrawing his hands and standing up straight.

Her hands went to his waist and she began to unbuckle his belt. She was relieved that it was growing darker because then, she could indulge without having to face that intense stare. She didn't want to think too much. Not about the regret that she knew wasn't far away nor how much she loved him nor her eroded sense of self-preservation. When she faltered, Jon helped her and then began to undress her when he was done removing his clothing. Where his touch was usually assertive, today he was gentle. Drawing his hands around her body, and stopping momentarily to tend specifically to different parts of her body. He pulled her by her hand then sat on her bed. Because the room was dark now, he turned on the lamp beside her bed and rested his back against the headboard.

She climbed on him and guided him inside her, they both sighed, but she remained still. As much as her skin felt afire, she grew self-conscious, so she reached to turn off the light, but Jon pulled her hand away from the switch. 

"Don't," he said. "I want to see you."

She could feel her cheeks warm, but she placed both hands on the headboard, above his head and closed her eyes before she started moving. Her self-consciousness was soon drowned out by craving. Jon's hand held her wrist. With his other hand, he drew a line with his finger in the middle of her back, from the lowest part of her waist to the nape of her neck. When he caught a nipple with his mouth, her head and her hands fell lower. Her arms felt too weak to keep on being against the headboard so she held onto his shoulders. Jon lifted his head and kissed her. When he pulled apart, both their eyes were open. He moved his hand to her head and pulled it down, holding her gaze. His eyes were soft and it was too much for her. Too intimate. So, she closed her eyes. He placed a hand on her waist and began to thrust upwards continuously until he squeezed her body and groaned in release. Daenerys' climax followed and she slumped against him. 

Both gasping for breath, they didn't move until the daze wore off. She began to climb off his body, but he held her still and settled them both on the bed. Fully aware of their naked state and unused to what was happening, she grew uncomfortable. But she couldn't look away from him. 

She'd made a choice to keep on betraying her friendship with Missandei. That grief she always felt for duping Missandei compounded.

She didn't know what this was - the way he'd looked at her in that moment - but she knew her choice tonight meant that she had to manage her expectations where he was concerned. Even when he was at his most open, it still felt like there was something to decipher about him. Right now, she kept waiting for him to leave. 

He must have sensed how apprehensive she became because he gave her a knowing look before closing his eyes. Jon drew her against his body and held her. His body was languid, but she couldn't find it in her to be the same way. 

For however long they remained that way, she couldn't say, but after a time, he kissed her slowly and got off the bed. Daenerys sat up and watched him put his clothes back on. 

When he was fully clothed, he came to her. "I'll call you as soon as I can. Is that alright?"

"Yes."

He kissed her one more time and turned around. Daenerys watched him leave. She sat that way long after the automated system of her house indicated that he'd closed the front door. She heard the faraway sounds of his engine and closed her eyes when he drove off. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone. I'd like to thank you for sticking with this story to this point. It's been really great hearing from all the wonderful people who've read this. However, this is possibly the last chapter of the story that I'll be posting. I've struggled with enthusiasm for the story recently and I hope to get it back. 
> 
> I personally don't want to abandon the story because I know how that feels from a reader's point of view. I'll do my best continue, perhaps challenge myself to write another chapter, one step at a time, instead of looking at it holistically. 
> 
> Anyways, thanks for reading and please leave your feedback. 
> 
> Love,
> 
> Me.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, everyone. To all who wrote encouraging things, your words helped. With this particular story, feedback/comments go a long way. It's a lot of effort put into it and it feels nice hearing what people think about it. Still not fully back yet, but we're getting there.

**JON**  
  
  
  
"No," Daenerys said to General Stannis Baratheon. He sat on a black leather chair between to sleek metal frames  
  
  
His furry brows came together as he glared at Daenerys. "Why not?" the General asked.  
  
  
"Because decisions imposed on people suddenly, with no time to get used to the idea nor prepare for the consequences, are generally resisted," she said, staring back at him. Though she wore a hint of a smile, Jon knew she was angry. "Secondly, I don't work for you, General."  
  
  
Yet another meeting had been called upon and different arms of the military, represented by different officials were present here.  
  
  
Indignant, Stannis' mouth twisted bitterly. "A few years typing things for the military and you think you're well versed enough to know how the soldiers here should be led. What do you know of war? How many men have you killed before? Have many have you seen die before your eyes? The value you bring here is that your AI does, more quickly, the work that the soldiers already do. You were brought here to give us information that we need. Now that we have it, we will work with it."  
  
  
"No, you won't," Daenerys said to him. "Not without my consent. I might not be in the military nor have the experience you have, but I am the best at what I do. I accepted the offer to consult for the military concerning, specifically, what is happening north of the Wall and with all I've done, I have nothing to prove to you nor anyone else here. To use what you took - without my knowledge - would be premature and could possibly result in the deaths of hundreds, if not thousands, of people." Her eyes widened very slightly and her voice became hard. "If you go ahead and those above you approve, all I need do is send word to the Iron Bank about the loans being sent here. What they loan to the Seven Kingdoms contributes to over half of what is used to sustain the military. A word from me and that stops. When that happens - and it will - what then?" she asked with her eyes steadily on Stannis.  
  
  
Jon knew she meant every word. He saw a harshness and a dauntlessness there that made him understand better how she'd been able to go up against the powerful in Meereen and the other city-states.  
  
  
"There's no need for any of this," one other General said placatingly, he was the same rank as Stannis, but had been one of the people who had initially stood against Daenerys in this.  
  
  
"You think the threats of some girl from foreign lands move me?" Stannis asked acerbically.  
  
  
"I don't care, really," she said. "I don't care what you think of me, for that matter, what I do care about is my work and what I do know is that nothing concerning my work here will move forward without my approval. If that is all I was asked to be here for, I'll leave you all to it." She pushed away from the table and left without giving anyone so much as a glance.  
  
  
All around, those present continued on in the disciplined way of the military, but he knew that for the rest of the day, the base would be abuzz with what had transpired here. Everyone knew the deep dislike Stannis bore for Daenerys, how often he attempted to undermine her, and how their exchanges bordered on being confrontational. This was going to be on the lips of most people who worked on the base for a week, at least.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
Jon came down from his vehicle and locked it. Sometime later, he made it to the building covered in crawling plants and flowers. When he pushed open the door, Daenerys - seated where she usually sat - looked up at him impassively. Though she bore a blank expression, Jon observed that it was because she hadn't gotten past her anger from earlier. Her eyes followed him until he was on his hunches in front of her, offering her a cup. In it was the first thing he'd ever bought her: the lemon beverage that tasted like piss. She looked at him questioningly and he said teasingly, "A drink to make an already bad day worse."  
  
  
Initially, she kept staring at him, but then her mouth twitched and light stole into her eyes. When she smiled, so did he before leaning his head forward to kiss her. He clamped his teeth gently on her lower lip and broke apart. "You are a conqueror," he commended.  
  
  
"I made more enemies today with what I said about the Iron Bank," she said.  
  
  
"Yes, you did." He knew she'd want his honesty. "But even they would tread very carefully with the things concerning you. No one wants to be the reason why half the military would be unpaid. And no one can push you out. They know you're indispensable." She scoffed. Jon placed the drink aside and asked, "Does that matter to you?" He cocked his head very slightly, staring at her. "The _enemies_?"  
  
  
"I'm not here to be liked," she said, looking him directly in the eye. "Whatever measures I need to take to ensure that what's right is done, then..." She shrugged and lowered her eyes. Her brows were furrowed and her concentration was on the second button of the jacket of his uniform which she picked at idly. "When change interferes with autonomy, it's to make people feel that they’ve lost control over their territory. It's about who has the power." She looked up again at him. "I had to end it very publicly. It was the only way that I could stop him from trying such again."  
  
  
One thing was certain, in the base, everyone, including the ones who disliked her, respected her more because of her actions today.  
  
  
The wind shook the trees, causing leaves to fall and land around them. Jon untied his hair so he could redo it properly. He squinted and moved his head away from the sun rays which silted through the window directly in his line of sight. When he turned his head back towards her, he said, “On the other hand, you've also gained more admirers." She flashed a small smile at him. Jon regarded her, noting the natural softness and warmth he got to see rather than the bearing of distant courtliness she maintained with most people on the base. "Are you alright now? Better, I mean." He'd come here to brighten her mood.  
  
  
"Aye," she said, mimicking him, making him chuckle. "Thank you."  
  
  
He kissed her briefly and straightened to his feet. He didn't have that much time to be away from his office. "Will you be here this evening?"  
  
  
She shook her head. "No. I have an engagement soon."  
  
  
"Let me know how it goes and when you get home."  
  
  
She nodded. Jon turned around and made it out of the building.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
Missandei looked above her when the chime went off, not long after, Osric opened the door to welcome them into Daenerys' home.  
  
  
He greeted them formally and answered Missandei concerning Daenerys' whereabouts in the house. When Jon crossed over the threshold, the flowery tinctured garden air gave way to the faint smell of lemons. The entryway was busy - some soldiers whom Daenerys had formed relationships with were present. They greeted Jon with the respect befitting his rank, but that was as formal as they got. Little Sam came running when he heard their voices and pounced on Jon with food-stained hands.  
  
  
Grinning, Jon lifted him. "Where's your father?"  
  
  
"In the courtyard. At the back." The boy went on to talk Jon's ear off as he walked further into the house. As that went on, Jon was attentive to his surroundings and kept an eye out for Daenerys.  
  
  
Missandei found her first, in the living area, surrounded by other guests. Both women greeted each other as they usually did and after disengaging from the embrace, Daenerys' eyes met his, but she looked away quickly. She became so occupied with everyone vying for her attention that no one noticed she'd said nothing to him. It was clear to Jon why her house was filled with other guests and not just the five of them as it was supposed to be during their meet: a ruse to help her cope with Missandei being here in her house at the same time he was here. Left to her - and him for her sake - they would have never convened here like this, but their next destination had been put to a vote and Daenerys' home had been the favoured choice. Her actions bespoke all the self-assuredness of someone who'd earned her status, but there were still those little signs that showed how nervous she was.  
  
  
The gathering moved to the spacious courtyard at the back where everyone ate and interacted. The Blackwater graced them with cool breeze, the supply of food was endless, and the overall undertone of the little feast, relaxed. Jon was as attentive to Missandei as he would have been on any given day, but he was attuned to everything Daenerys did.  
  
  
When the sun became too hot, most of them moved back into much cooler the living area where they stayed and engaged with one another until dusk came and gradually, everyone began to leave. With the exception of two youthful soldiers, the five of them - and the children - remained.  
  
  
They settled in front of the large screen, sitting in different places in the living area. The discussion flowed as they watched the two soldiers show Little Sam what to do on the game they played. Sam's daughter crawled into Jon's lap and cuddled against his chest. He played quietly with her when the general discourse was distracted by the loud noises made by the younger people who were playing the game. When Missandei joined him and rested her head against his shoulder, he felt Daenerys' eyes on them. Missandei placed her hand into his and both of them took turns in making the baby laugh.  
  
  
"You two seem ready to take on a family," Sam observed, smiling at them. Gilly agreed.  
  
  
Jon felt Daenerys go quiet.  
  
  
"Not yet," Missandei said, lifting her head from Jon's shoulder to stare at him. They both smiled and kissed each other briefly.  
  
  
"Not yet," Jon repeated. "We still have three more years to go."  
  
  
"Two years and four months," Missandei corrected. "We've been married for two years and eight months," she said, looking at Jon before turning her attention to Sam. "The plan was to wait for five years."  
  
  
"Can you?" Gilly asked, playfully. Fortunately, the living area was large enough and loud enough that what they spoke of didn't carry to the ears of the younger people.  
  
  
"Mm...," Jon said. "What do you think?" he asked Missandei and plucked at her curls.  
  
  
"We've made it this far, so..."  
  
  
A triumphant shout interrupted them and that particular discussion was left unfinished. He glimpsed Daenerys walk to the kitchen area and begin to busy herself.  
  
  
Time elapsed and eventually, it was time to leave. She walked them to the door and bid them a good night.  
  
  
"It was such a good day, wasn't it?" Missandei asked as he held the passenger door open for her.  
  
  
"It was." He looked back at the house before getting around to the driver's seat.  
  
  
"Dany's so good at hosting. She should do this more often."  
  
  
Jon huffed a small laugh, but didn't say anything. He turned on the ignition and reversed his vehicle out of the driveway. Missandei raised her hand to massage the nape of his neck and he cast her a glance, smiling at her.  
  
  
"You'd make a great father."  
  
  
Jon cast a glance her way briefly. "Are you thinking of having one before the end of our five year wait?"  
  
  
"Maybe."  
  
  
He knew they were teasing each other and that this very conversation alluded to sex when they got home, but he knew that the underlying topic meant two very different things to either of them at the moment.  
  
  
"We could try tonight," Missandei said.  
  
  
Jon played along, indulging her: teasing with his words and with his hands. They laughed and played like a married pair would and when they got home, they made love, but his thoughts had strayed to Daenerys so often that even now with Missandei laying asleep in his arms, Daenerys stayed on the fore of his mind.  
  
  
Jon, still awake, stared up at the ceiling. It was in this silence that his mind began to go through all that had happened earlier in the day. He shifted away from Missandei, coaxing her back to sleep when she stirred, and stroked her hair, before going to take a shower.  
  
  
The events of today called attention to many things he was still trying to find his footing on. Their close-knit circle had come together a lot of times since he and Daenerys had gotten intimate with each other, but today posed questions to him that he didn't think he was ready to find answers to.  
  
  
Jon turned off the shower, dried himself, and walked into the bedroom he shared with Missandei. He rummaged through a chest of drawers and dressed himself in light and free clothing before going for his phone and leaving the bedroom.  
  
  
He went to the terrace outside and sat on one of the chairs. The moonlight poured from the sky, laving everything it could touch with its soft light.  
  
  
Jon searched through his thoughts honestly: he loved Missandei and he loved Daenerys. That was an established truth, but what he felt for both, while familiar enough to be identified as love were not quite the same thing.  
  
  
 _Missandei is a good one and what you have with her is uncommon in many marriages. Don't take it for granted._ Lord Stark had said that to him and those words were true. The last statement was what bothered Jon to the point that he began to cast aspersions on himself: had the tables been turned and he’d been married to Daenerys instead, would he have found himself thinking of Missandei the way he did Daenerys? Or was this whole situation about him as a person rather than the women involved?  
  
  
A moment later, he scrolled through his phone and went directly to Daenerys' message hub. Usually, after a night like this, he'd send messages to check on her - messages she never responded to - but tonight, he paused. Today had been a difficult day for her. And if she were to judge by his actions alone, she wouldn't be wrong to think that he'd remained unaffected throughout the day, but the reality had been anything but… The truth was that he'd been keenly aware of her the way he usually was during every meet. He’d noticed all the times she stepped away, when she came back, what she wore, how she looked, what she did... everything.  
  
  
They hadn't said more than five words to each other, but all through the day, he'd felt her guilt and longing above all else. Things he wished he could ease. Right now, he wanted to make sure that she was alright - as much as she could be - but he didn't think that alone would suffice, so he decided to try something different. He wanted her to know that he'd _seen_ her.  
  
  
 ** _Jon_** _: Different fragrance today?_  
  
He didn't think she would respond to him so he put his phone away and rested against the chair, wondering who he could confide in about all this. When some time passed, he picked up his phone, ready to go back inside when he saw that his message had been replied moments ago.  
  
 ** _Dany_** _: Yes._  
  
 ** _Jon:_** _I liked it.  
  
 **Jon:** I hadn't seen that pair of earrings on you for a long time before today.  
_  
After he sent his message, it took a little while, but it showed that she'd read it. Then she replied him, quoting his message about her perfume:  
  
 ** _Dany_** _: Thank you.  
  
 **Jon:** What are you still doing awake? Working?  
_  
He knew her sleeping habits – the habitual sleeplessness she experienced – but he asked because he wanted to keep the conversation going.  
  
 ** _Dany:_** _A little.  
  
 **Jon:** What are you working on?  
  
 **Dany:** The usual._  
  
  
The door to the terrace slid open and Missandei stepped out. She stretched her arms. "What are you doing out here alone?"  
  
  
"Sorting things out."  
  
  
"The base?"  
  
  
He said nothing, knowing she would take his silence as confirmation. There were no sudden reactions from him of putting his phone away or trying to hide the conversation with Daenerys because since this had started, he'd been conscientious about his actions: he didn't let guilt - no matter how deep - make him act differently so as not to raise her suspicions. When she walked to meet him and sit on his lap, he put the phone away the way he would have had he been doing anything else. He didn’t like to lie – it was something he’d once held as a principle, but … still watched himself for the sake of love and guilt, ensuring that he didn't lie except it was totally unavoidable, but lies didn't always have to be words, did they? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Please leave a comment.

**Author's Note:**

> If you made it to the end, thanks for reading. I haven't written modern AU before and prior to season 8, I wasn't keen on it, but here I am. Even at that, I still wanted it to feel like the ASOIAF world and I hope it was able to translate to the readers across the text.
> 
> Chapter 2 will be up next week.
> 
> Ps: For those who might be following 'So What Now?', I'm still on that story.


End file.
